


Therapy Dogs and Comic Books

by newtedison



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And a dash of smut, Artist Newt, Bisexual Thomas, Depressed Newt, Depression, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Newt, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Not too much, Oblivious Newt, Oblivious Thomas, Pining, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Video Game Nerds, a hint of angst, and there's a hint of thomresa, its just them being oblivious and pining for an entire school year really, its not mentioned directly but just keep it in your noggin, pansexual minho, therapy dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 85,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtedison/pseuds/newtedison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt takes his therapy dog, Lola, to the park one day for a peaceful afternoon. That is, until he bumps into a boy with shaggy brown hair and square glasses named Thomas. The two meet at the park week after week, and throughout the school year forge a deep friendship. Lots of pining, seemingly unrequited love, and both of them being hideously oblivious. Oh, and everyone else ships it, too.</p><p>Now with a bonus sequel of ficlets! <br/>http://archiveofourown.org/works/13563657/chapters/31126452</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting You Was Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So first off I just want to say that this fic is already almost finished and is at about 70k and will probably hit around 80k by the time I'm done, so if you can't handle that kind of commitment, try one of my one-shots instead haha. Also, warning, I am working with themes involving depression, suicide, and therapy dogs. It's not too heavy, but as I have no experience with it myself, everything I'm writing is based on research. I'm sorry if it's inaccurate or somehow offensive, and please let me know if it is! With that being said, enjoy!

The warm September sun shines off of Lola's fur as she trots down the sidewalk. It's the beginning of the month, but the world is still transitioning; finding that balance between summer and winter called autumn. It's hard to strike it in the middle. So on these days, the ones where the sun kisses Newt's skin but the cool air lets him wear his favorite hoodie, he decides to try and enjoy it and takes Lola out for a walk. 

Lola's relatively young for a therapy dog; usually they're about a year old, already trained with how to handle identifying their owners' depressive signals and how to help them. Lola is just short of being a puppy, per Newt's request. She's a small golden retriever, always bouncing along with a smile on her face and a spruce in her paws. 

Naturally, Lola attracts a lot of attention. Newt is constantly interrupted by people asking him if they could pet her, what's her name, how old is she, blah blah blah. Newt deals with it with a forced smile and tries to be as polite as possible, but whoever it is usually gets the message and continues on. 

Newt doesn't mean to come across as rude. He really doesn't. But it's bloody exhausting to answer the same damn questions to people every five minutes. He just wanted to enjoy the fresh air with Lola, not fight his way through small talk. He can't be bothered with that kind of stuff. 

But on days like today, the in-between days, Newt can't help himself. So he goes out anyway, and deals with whoever comes along. 

He's already counted five people to come up to him before he hits the park, Lola's favorite spot. It's only a few minutes' walk from his neighborhood, and it's a nice, quiet space. There's vendors here and there that sell ice cream and smoothies, a playground for the kids, and an area for dogs to play in, with toys spread galore. It's all very spacious, spreading out much longer than the usual park, and it's healthy and green. Newt usually tosses a frisbee around with Lola or sits and watches her play with the other dogs while reading a book.

It's a nice way for him to escape. To be outside, but not be with others. To be there, and not. The in-between. 

He's waiting on line at the ice cream vendor when he hears a boy's voice from behind him. 

"Oh, hi there, girl!"

Sighing to himself, Newt turns around, ready for the usual schpeel of questions. 

What he finds surprises him. It's a boy, about a year younger than him, with shaggy brown hair and square glasses. He's bending down to pet Lola, who is, quite literally, jumping on his legs. She has her paws propped on his knees and is enthusiastically licking his face. The boy laughs with a wide, genuine smile as he rubs her fur. 

Newt is struck silent. Lola never, ever, comes up to strangers like this. Sure, she’ll sniff them or lick their hands and be friendly, but she usually isn’t this excited right out of the gate. 

But he doesn’t have to wonder why this boy seems so special; his smile is glowing, positively radiating warmth that is sweeter than Newt’s favorite September sun. He’s unapologetically happy to be petting this dog. Newt can’t help but smile.

“Her name’s Lola,” Newt finds himself saying. “She’s almost a year old. Golden retriever, if you couldn’t tell.” Newt usually doesn’t tell them everything right away; he waits for them to ask.

“She’s adorable,” the boy says, finally tearing his eyes away from Lola to glance up at Newt. They’re deep and brown, glinting with tints of gold in the sun. “I’m usually more of a cat person, but this sweet little thing has won my heart, yes she has!” He says that last part in a cooing voice, ruffling the sides of Lola’s face.

Newt gives a quick laugh at that. “A cat person? I wouldn’t have guessed, seeing the way you’re petting her.” Newt bends down himself and starts petting Lola, too, in a small attempt at reminding her that she’s _his_ therapy dog, not this boy’s.

The boy looks back up at Newt, his brow furrowed in slight confusion. His eyes lock with Newt’s for a silent moment, and a spark of nervousness flows through Newt.  
“Hey, do you go to Evans High?” he finally asks. “I think I’ve seen you in the halls.”

Newt gives a small smile; he never really paid attention in the hallways, and definitely didn’t think anyone could have recognized him. He was certain he had never seen this guy before.

“I do, actually,” he answers. “The name’s Newt. Newt Edison.” He holds out his hand.

The boy immediately takes it, giving a firm handshake. Newt can’t help but notice how surprisingly soft his hands are. “Thomas Isaacs.” They go back to petting Lola.

“I think I’ve seen your art up in the lobby,” Thomas adds. “You’re like, wicked talented.”

Newt looks away from Thomas and blushes, heat pooling in his cheeks. He always felt a weird sense of embarrassment when people complimented his artwork. He had been active in art for the last three years, winning several awards and scholarships. But lately, he hadn’t been feeling the inspiration to draw, paint, sculpt, photograph, anything. He’d just been handing things in for a grade, things he didn’t care about. His teachers noticed, but he didn’t care.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Newt stammers out. 

“I mean it,” Thomas continues, completely removed, for a moment, from Lola. He’s staring into Newt with such strange intensity for someone he just met that Newt is startled. Thomas is, seemingly, kind to everyone he meets, and genuinely. “I’ve seen your drawings. Your portraits, still lifes. They’re amazing.”

Newt smiles. He can’t help but feel touched at what Thomas just said. He’s never cared about what others have said about his art. This time feels different.

“Thanks, Thomas,” Newt almost murmurs, a feeling like happiness filling his chest. “Means a lot.”

Thomas smiles at him, shining and bright even in the middle of the day. They look at each other for a few moments, longer then they should be, longer than Newt should be allowing them to. But he doesn’t care.

Newt is just realizing that their fingers are brushing in Lola’s fur, a small stroke between the fingers, when a voice breaks them out of their trance.

“Hey, are you gonna buy something, or what?” The ice cream vendor exclaims. “You’re holding up the line.”

Thomas and Newt simultaneously look behind them. A small line of people has formed, folding their arms and tapping their feet impatiently. They smile at each other; Newt notices that Thomas is slightly blushing, just like he is. It sends a flutter through his chest.

They stand up, moving towards the vendor.

“I’ll take a chocolate chip sandwich, please,” Newt asks, fishing out his wallet. As he hands the crumpled bills to the vendor, he stops. The vendor is laughing. “What?”

“Aw, nothing,” the vendor shrugs, getting the sandwich from the truck. As he’s getting the change, he decides to add, “It’s just, you know, you never care when people pet your dog there. I’ve seen it.”

Newt scowls, flustered; he’s sure Thomas can hear everything this guy’s saying. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Look, can I have my change?”

The vendor chuckles again, handing Newt his change and ice cream. “Here ya go, lovebird. Enjoy.”

Newt angrily snatches them, turning to leave before the vendor can say something else to ridiculously embarrass him.

He’s only walked a few feet when Thomas calls to him. “Hey, Newt!”

Newt turns around. “What is it?”

“I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Newt hesitates; he’s not sure what he means. Will he see him in school? At the park? Either way, Newt wants the answer to be yes. 

So he nods confidently. “Yeah. I’ll see you.”

Thomas nods, too, then turns to the vendor. As Newt walks away, he hears Thomas go “I’ll have the same thing.”

Newt smiles to himself as he leads Lola down towards the dog park. 

“Good girl.”

***

The image of Thomas petting Lola stays in Newt’s head the rest of the day. He barely talked to him for five minutes, and yet his silly, shaggy hair and nerdy glasses are all that Newt can think about. It leaves him jittery, anxious, and a little bit happy. So he decides to do something he hasn’t done in who knows how long; he picks up his drawing kit, some paper, and gets to work.

At first, he’s not sure where to start; he feels rusty. He hasn’t had to do any serious projects in school yet, and God knows he didn’t try anything over the summer. But soon, he’s moving across the paper like clockwork, forming the ruffles in Thomas’ hair, the reflection of the sun in Lola’s fur. It’s so vivid in his mind that he doesn’t need a photograph. Just the memory.

He stays up until 3 AM to finish it, only taking breaks to go to the bathroom or quickly wolf down a snack. He doesn’t bother to eat dinner, or shower, or do his homework. He’s so focused on this drawing, motivated in a way that he hasn’t been in a long time. Lola faithfully sits by and watches, stopping only to bring Newt his bottle of pills (a neat little trick, Newt learned, that therapy dogs can do) and sleep. 

Once he decides he’s done (or as done as he can be without fidgeting over every insecurity about it) he sits back and admires it. It’s not his best work, especially considering his absence from serious drawing, but it’s not bad by a long shot. Thomas’ smile is there, radiating and warm. Lola’s paws are resting on Thomas’ thighs, and she’s licking his cheek. Newt sits there, in the dim light from his desk lamp, smiling like an idiot at the paper.

He’s starting to think that Lola knows more tricks other than fetching pill bottles.


	2. Batman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt heads back to the park, secretly hoping Thomas will be there. He won't be disappointed.

Newt doesn’t see Thomas at school that whole week. He finds himself scouring the hallways, trying to find him, figure out where Thomas could ever have seen him. But all he sees are the faces of people he doesn’t know, people he doesn’t care about, and he’s left with a sense of disappointment and a slight fall in his chest.

So, that same time on Saturday, he goes to the park again with Lola. He tries to tell himself that he’s going to spend time with Lola, not to potentially see Thomas, because _that_ would be creepy. But he knows, deep down, that he’s really hoping to see him. He can’t exactly say why, but he knows it.

He’s sitting at his favorite bench, the one under the shady oak tree, watching Lola run around with a very energetic Yorkshire Terrier. He has the latest Batman comic spread out on his lap. _The perfect way to spend the day_ , he thinks. He’s looking down at his comic when he hears someone sit down next to him.

He looks up to see Thomas smiling at him, his mouth crooked at the corner, his golden-brown eyes shining. Newt’s stomach flutters.

“Heya,” Thomas waves.

“Hello, yourself,” Newt answers, smiling himself. _His smile is infectious._

“I see Lola’s busy today,” Thomas observes, pointing at Lola running in figure eights.

Newt laughs, deep and genuine. “Yeah. She can get pretty hyper.”

Thomas nods, looking down at the comic. “What do you got there?”

Newt lifts the comic. “This? It’s Batman. Here.” He hands the comic over to Thomas. Thomas scans the pages, clearly focusing on the pictures rather than the dialogue.

"You ever think about drawing comics?" he asks. "You'd probably be good at it."

Newt attempts to hold back yet another blush. _What is up with this kid?_

"Thanks, but I don't think so," he answers. "I'm not big on cartoon stuff."

Thomas nods, skimming through a few more pages while Newt watches Lola. It takes some willpower not to watch Thomas as he reads, to watch his golden eyes jump around the pages, follow the curve of his pink lips, count the birthmarks on his cheek. So he watches Lola run in circles, never slowing down, never getting bored. Her golden fur shines in the sun and flows in the breeze.

"So what brings you around here?" Newt asks.

"What, to the park?"

"Yeah. You know, this is the _dog_ park, after all. For people who have _dogs._ "

Thomas pauses for a moment, looking at Newt before breaking out into a loud laugh.

"What can I say?" Thomas answers, still chuckling. "I love dogs."

"I thought you were a cat person."

Thomas shrugs. "Maybe I'm both."

Newt stays silent at that, not sure what to say. The owner of the Yorkshire Terrier leads her away, so Lola loyally trots back to Newt. Once she sees Thomas on the bench, she runs full speed and hops onto his lap, enthusiastically licking his chin and neck.

"Aww, hey Lola!" Thomas grins, rubbing her happily. Newt watches, amused. He's starting to think Lola loves Thomas more than she loves Newt.

"Seems she's taken a likin’ to ya." Newt observes.

"I guess so." Thomas giggles as Lola licks the end of his nose. _That is so bloody cute. Holy shit._

“Alright, Lola, that’s enough,” Newt commands, snapping his fingers. Lola looks at Newt, giving him, quite literally, the puppy dog eyes. “Quit smothering Tommy, you’re gonna suffocate him.” Lola, with a hint of sadness, gets off of Thomas’ lap and sits restfully at his feet instead. Newt chuckles to himself. After a moment of pause, Thomas speaks up, a hint of humor in his voice.

“Tommy?” Newt’s heart stops for a moment. _Christ alive._ He hadn’t realized he’d given him a nickname. This was only their second time talking, and already Newt was acting like they were lifelong friends. His face burned in embarrassment.

Newt tries to play it off and shrugs. “‘spose. Why, you don’t like it?”

Thomas smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s cute.” _Cute? Bloody hell._ “No one really gives me nicknames. Except my ex-girlfriend. She called me Tom.”

_Girlfriend._ Right. Of course Thomas would like girls. Still, there’s a sinking feeling in Newt’s gut that he tries his best to hide.

“Tom’s boring,” Newt adds. “I like Tommy better.”

“Me, too.”

They smile at each other for a moment, another moment that’s too long for normal eye contact. Newt’s about to suggest that they go get some ice cream when his cell phone rings.

“Hang on, I gotta take this,” Newt says. He walks away from the bench and answers without looking at the Caller I.D. “Hello?”

“Newt, are you alright? Where are you?” It’s his mom. Her voice is shrilled with concern.

“Relax, mum, m’alright,” Newt answers, trying his best to keep his voice low so Thomas can’t hear. “Just at the park with Lola.”

“Oh, good. Your dad and I were worried you had run off somewhere.” And by run off somewhere, Newt knows she means _tried to hurt yourself again,_ but she doesn’t say it. She probably never will say it, or mention it, directly. Both of his parents just dance around the issue, playing a constant tango of _we really care about you and we don’t want you try anything like that again and we can’t bring it up we have to act like things are okay and everything is normal._ Hence the reason he’s not home most of the time.

“No. Just at the park. M’fine, honest.” He tries to inconspicuously look over his shoulder to see if Thomas is listening, but to no avail. He just looks like he has really bad neck pain.

“Just...be careful, alright? Get home safe.” _Just get home_ , he knows she’s thinking. “I will. Love you.” “Love you too, honey.” He hangs up and turns around sheepishly, hoping Thomas didn’t hear him getting a check-in call from his mom. He’s almost 18 -- it’s a little weird to still be getting those. But he understands the circumstances.

“I should probably get going,” Newt finishes, worried that his mom will keep calling if he doesn’t get home soon.

“Leaving so soon?” Thomas says with a smirk. “Lola just got here.”

Newt chuckles at that. “I’m starting to think you only talk to me to see my dog.”

Thomas gives a joking shrug. “Could be.”

Newt laughs, then snaps his fingers for Lola to walk with him as he goes. He’s only walked a few steps before Thomas calls for him. Again.

“Wait, Newt!” Newt turns around.

“Yeah, Tommy?”

“You forgot your comic.” He holds the Batman comic up in the air, waving it slightly.

Newt grins. “Keep it. I think you’ll like it.”

Thomas looks at the comic, then back at Newt. “Are you sure?”

“Here. You can borrow it. Does that make you feel better?” _And then you’ll return it to me and we’ll talk about it and I’ll see you again._

Thomas grins, looking at the comic now in his lap. "Thanks, Newt."

"No problem. I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll see you."


	3. Hey, Lovebirds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More stuff of them at the park. Totally not a date. Sorry that it's a bit on the short side, but the next one will make up for it!

"So what kind of name is Newt, anyway?"

They're sitting on that same bench the next Saturday, watching Lola play with a couple of tiny Beagles. It's getting a little colder, the leaves starting to fall off the trees and the grass becoming dry and crunchy. Less people frequent the park.

Newt chuckles at the comment. He knows it's an uncommon name, but no one has had the brashness to ask its meaning before. Or, quite possibly, no one’s cared.

“Short for Newton,” he explains. “You know. Like Isaac Newton.”

“Yeah, sounds familiar,” Thomas rolls his eyes. “I mean, why would your parents name you that?”

Newt laughs, turning slightly towards Thomas. He has one arm draped around the bench behind him; not touching his back, but still there, still around him. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“You can ask them yourself if you ever meet the bastards.” He means it as a joke, but the thought flashes through his mind; _What if he met my parents?_ But that implies that they’ll ever be anything more than dog-park friends, and that’s something Newt doesn’t dare to hope for.

Thomas smiles, watching Lola as he takes a sip of the coffee he got before coming to the park. Suddenly, Newt remembers what he brought in his backpack.

“Forgot to tell you. I picked up something for ya.”

Thomas’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “For me?"

“Yeah. Check ‘em out.” Newt pulls out a stack of comics he got from his local bookstore. They’re a little old and beaten up, but they were cheap, and he thought Thomas would like them. He hands the stack to Thomas, who takes them with a mix of gratitude and excitement in his face.

“Figured you’d be a fast reader,” Newt explains. “So I thought you might want something more than a quick read. This should keep you busy for a while.”

Thomas flips through the stack, scanning the covers. “You didn’t have to get these for me.”

“Don’t worry. They were pretty cheap. I didn’t break the bank for you, or anything.”

Thomas gives a small smile as he looks down at the comics. “Thanks. This is really cool.”

“No problem, Tommy. Just make sure to give me back Batman when you’re done, ya?”

“Oh, I finished it.” Thomas pulls out the comic from his own bag and hands it over. “You were right. I’m a fast reader.”

Newt laughs as he tucks the comic into his backpack. “Figures.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” a voice calls from behind them. The two turn around to see the ice cream vendor smirking in his truck.

“What do you want?” Newt asks, blatantly ignoring the comment. Thomas doesn’t say anything.

“Parks closin’ early tonight. Got some sort of war reenactment, or something. You kids better get goin’.”

“Thank you,” Thomas says, polite as usual. He gets up, moving the stack of comics to his bag while Newt calls Lola back over.

“Be seein’ you,” Newt says, pulling his strap over his shoulder.

Thomas grins. “Of course.”

***

Once Newt gets home, he pulls the Batman comic out of his bag to put it away. As he moves it to his shelf, a piece of paper falls out from the middle. Perplexed, he picks it up and unfolds it.

_845-275-1856. For pictures of Lola, of course. I’m sure she misses me. -T_

Newt stares at the paper, grinning like an idiot, his face blushing twenty shades of red, he’s sure. Thomas just gave him his number. His _number!_

“But he likes girls,” Newt whispers to himself. “Remember that. Girls. He just wants pictures of your bloody therapy dog.”

He looks down at Lola, who sits by his feet, tongue sticking out, eyes huge and blue. It’s almost like she knows. She even gives a tiny bark.

“Oh, shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, just wanted to say thanks for all the nice comments and kudos so far! I'm glad you're all liking it :)


	4. Weekly (Not) Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They become friends and stuff. Cute as heck.

They develop an unspoken agreement to meet at the park every Saturday. Same time, same place. Even when the leafs are gone from the trees, the grass is barren and brown and most of the people are gone, they still go.

In the weeks between their meetups, Newt draws more pictures of Thomas and Lola. Thomas throwing a ball, Lola following it with her eyes. Lola licking Thomas’s nose. Thomas giving Lola a high-five, a trick Newt taught her. He considers it his senior portfolio; the one subject he’ll focus on for the entire year. It’s better than coming up with excuses for his work every week. He’ll just show his teachers a work in progress, and they’ll leave him alone, happy to see he’s motivated on anything at all.

They stop at the pet-friendly cafe a couple of times to get coffee. Newt knows Thomas’ order by now; medium caramel, light and sweet with whipped cream. Newt just gets his black.

People still come up to Lola as they walk down the sidewalk, even with Thomas there. Newt decides to let Thomas do most of the talking; he seems much better at making small talk with strangers.

“It’s his dog, actually,” Thomas usually says, since most people assume the one with warmth radiating out of him like it’s infectious is the one that owns the equally happy dog. “Name’s Lola. Almost a year old.”

“That’s adorable!” is usually the response, and Newt just gives a weak smile, eager to move along.

One time, someone gets to Thomas before he can explain.

“Oh, your dog is so cute! How long have you two owned her?”

_You two._ As if they owned the dog _together._ As a _couple._ Newt blushed for about the umpteenth time since meeting Thomas. Thomas blinked back in surprised, seemingly lost for an answer. For once, Newt stepped up.

“S’my dog, actually,” he explained. “Just mine.” The girl nodded with an embarrassed smile and continued along quickly.

They usually just stay at the bench, Lola always with them. At first, they talk about the comics Newt brought Thomas. Then that leads to mystery novels, which apparently Thomas loves. Like, capital L. He rants about them for hours, talking about the surprise plots and what he saw coming and what he still can’t figure out.

He likes puzzles. Crosswords, word searches, mazes. Things he can work out and solve, use his brain for. Newt always got frustrated with those and gave up halfway through.

They talk about school. Thomas complains about his AP Chemistry and Trigonometry classes, as well as his honors classes in English and History. He has three essays due next week, two packets, four tests to study for. Newt quickly notices that what Thomas might be lacking in artistic ability and humor, he makes up with wicked smarts.

“I mean, it must be so easy for you,” Thomas remarks one day. “You know, senior year. I’ve bet you got, what, two classes?”

Newt gives a small grin and starts counting off his fingers.

“Five. Gym, english, history, and two art electives. Then I leave early.”

Thomas gives a jealous sigh. “That sounds fantastic.”

“It is, Tommy. It really is.”

Newt doesn’t tell him that he still hasn’t started the process for applying to college, and probably will never start that process unless he gets some serious motivation and life direction.

They talk about Lola a lot. Thomas asks Newt how he got her, and Newt uncomfortably lies and says adoption. He isn’t exactly ready to reveal that she’s a therapy dog. Not yet, anyway.

When they aren’t talking at the park, they’re texting. Most of it is just simple things; Thomas complaining about the latest NCIS _(I totally knew that guy was the killer)_ or aggressively sending him photos of his cat _(I’ll make you a cat person, just you wait)_ which Newt usually combats with photos of Lola, which submits Thomas for a while.

It’s the last week in October when Thomas decides to bring up his ex.

Newt hadn’t asked about her -- truth be told, he really didn’t want to know. He liked living in the bubble of believing that Thomas never had an ex, never dated a girl, didn’t like girls. It made him feel better about knowing he had never dated anyone. There weren’t exactly a lot of openly gay guys at their school. Hell, Newt wasn’t even open himself. Hadn’t needed to be.

So he decided to leave the topic of his ex alone. Let them talk about other things, like music (Thomas really likes soft indie and acoustics -- Newt curses himself for stopping his guitar lessons) and movies (his favorites include _The Matrix_ and _Good Will Hunting_ ) and comics (he’s a huge Spider-Man fan now, and asks for Newt’s recommendations constantly). It was easy. It was simple.

But Thomas decides he’s comfortable enough, trusts Newt enough, to bring her up. A part of Newt is touched that Thomas would talk about her even though they’ve only been talking for a little over a month, but the other part of him wishes Thomas wouldn’t bring her up at all.

So they’re playing fetch with Lola when he decides it’s the perfect time to mention it.

“I saw Teresa the other day,” he reflects as he throws the ball. (Newt doesn’t think about Thomas’s muscles in his arm and back when he throws it. Really. He doesn’t.)

“Who?”

“Teresa Agnes,” Thomas explains, looking at Newt intensely. “My ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh. Right.”

“She works at the library now, apparently,” he continues, seemingly unfazed by Newt’s passiveness. “I went to check out some more comics and suddenly there she was, right at the register.” He’s silent for a few moments, taking the ball from Lola’s mouth and throwing it again. Newt takes a sip of his coffee, waiting patiently for Thomas to continue.

“So she’s scanning my comics, and she’s taking her time, I can tell,” he adds. There’s an edge that’s coming to his voice, something Newt hasn’t heard before. It worries him. “The whole time, she’s just giving me this glare. She’s got those icy eyes, you know? Cold and blue, like they’re daggers.”

“I know a few people like that,” Newt cuts in, attempting at a joke to lighten the mood. Thomas doesn’t laugh.

“So I’m waiting, and I’m waiting, and finally she says, ‘Wow, Tom. Didn’t know you were such a huge nerd now.’ Just like that.” He says her part in a mocking, cold tone, and Newt can’t help but think it’s a slight exaggeration. He knows Teresa; she’s a senior, too, and she’s been in some of Newt’s classes. She’s a sweet girl. Independent and opinionated as hell, but sweet.

“I couldn’t believe it! I mean, we’ve been broken up for what, four months? And she’s still giving me the cold shoulder. I thought we were fine.”

He puffs out an angry sigh, aggressively throwing the ball so Lola has to run even faster to get it.

“I don’t know. It just bothers me, I guess. We were friends before we dated. Really good friends. I hate losing that.”

_Right. Like how you and me are friends now,_ Newt can’t help but think.

“I’m sure she’ll be your friend again,” Newt attempts to comfort him. “Teresa’s a nice girl. I’m sure she’s just holding a grudge.”

“Yeah, but girls can hold grudges like, forever!” Thomas exclaims, frustratedly throwing his hands in the air. He puffs out another sigh. “Sometimes I wish we never even dated, you know? Like just staying friends would have been easier. Would have hurt less.”

“I’m sure you don’t mean that. You had a good time together, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Thomas trails off, searching for what to say. Lola sits at his feet, temporarily forgotten. She sits patiently, like she knows Thomas needs to let off steam. “It hurts, you know? I’m sure you’ve had tons of ex-girlfriends. It sucks having to see them again. Especially when they were your friend.”

Newt nods, attempting to hide a laugh, or a blush. _Tons of girlfriends. Right. Of course, I love girls._

“Just talk to her, alright?” he suggests, avoiding the comment. “I’m sure she’ll come ‘round.”

Thomas nods, then notices Lola lying at his feet. “Oh, sorry, girl. I forgot about you!”

He ruffles her hair before throwing the ball again. There’s a silence between them as they watch Lola chase the ball. Thomas turns toward Newt.

“Thanks,” he says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I haven’t really talked to anyone about her. It’s nice to be able to vent.”

Newt gives a sincere smile. “Sure. Anytime, Tommy.”

 


	5. Out Of the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting too cold to go to the park anymore. What will they do? Will Newt make a move? Who knows?!

They keep up their tradition of going to the park for another month. It gets to the point where they need to double up on jackets, and they clutch their coffee to their hands like it’s a lifeline. Almost no one is at the park by now; no one seems to want to head outside in late November. But they’re still there on the bench, knees knocking together with Lola spread across their laps like a blanket. They pet her absentmindedly; their hands brush pretty frequently, but they never pull away. A spark runs up Newt’s arm every time, but he can’t tell if Thomas has the same reaction.

On the last Saturday in November, they notice signs around the park; the park will be closing in a few days. The vendors will leave, the events will end, and the playgrounds will be covered up to prevent rusting. No one would come anymore. But they still sit at the bench, doing their usual routine of talking about comics, then movies, then NCIS, then Teresa, then back to comics. Neither of them have mentioned the signs. Newt’s just trying to forget they’re there; pretend that their happy place, their little bubble from the rest of the world, won’t be going away. That it won’t be taken by winter.

He tries to tell himself that it’ll be okay -- they still can text each other, and Newt might even get up the nerve to FaceTime him. He can say its for Lola. But he knows it won’t be the same, couldn’t be the same, if they don’t physically see each other again. Their friendship would fizzle. Fizzle and fade.

Newt can’t have that -- other than not hurting his parents (again) and Lola, Thomas is Newt’s reason to keep on going. To make him believe he can get better. Hell, Newt’s drawing again. Without anyone telling him to. And he’s smiling. God, he smiles so much now. And laughs, deep and hearty, so loud it hurts his gut and his eyes water. It’s the best kind of pain.

“Lola’s getting bigger,” Thomas notices. She’s been growing steadily; she’s a year old now (they celebrated it two weeks ago with a little cupcake Newt baked), and is starting to look like a real therapy dog. Newt feels bittersweet about it; he kind of liked her as a small dog.

“She’ll be crushing our legs before you know it,” Newt jokes. Again, he’s implying that he’ll see Thomas again. Hope against hope.

Thomas chuckles. “Yeah. Can’t wait.”

“Hey, lovebirds.” Newt rolls his eyes and turns around to see the ice cream vendor giving them his classic smirk. It’s become routine with him to call them lovebirds about, oh, every time he sees them. Neither of them comment on it, but Newt _swears_ he saw Thomas blush one time.

“You know the park’s closin’, right?” he asks. “You guys won’t be able to come here anymore.”

“Yeah, we know,” Thomas answers jokingly. “We can read.” He points to one of the many signs scattered around the park. The vendor laughs.

“Why are you still open, anyway?” Newt asks. “No one wants to eat ice cream in November.”

The vendor shrugs. “You never know, kid.” He walks away from the window.

Newt laughs to himself. “What a weird guy.” Thomas doesn’t answer. He furrows his brow and purses his lips, seemingly deep in thought. Finally, he lifts Lola off of him and starts walking to the vendor.

“Tommy?” Newt questions, following him. “What’re you doing?”

“You’ll see,” Thomas answers over his shoulder.

He walks up to the window; the vendor appears, a mischievous smirk on his face. He grabs two ice cream cookie sandwiches and hands them to Thomas. Thomas reaches for his wallet, but the vendor holds his hand out and shakes his head. Thomas argues with him, but the vendor won’t give, just laughing the whole time. Finally, Thomas walks back to Newt and hands him one of the ice cream sandwiches.

“On the house,” he comments, unwrapping his own.

“Really?” Newt looks over at the vendor. He gives Newt a wink before closing the wall over the window. Newt smiles.

“Cheers,” Thomas suggests, holding the sandwich up. “To the park. And Lola.”

Newt stares at Thomas for a moment, at his brown eyes that are still speckled with gold, even if the sun has died down for winter. The slight wind ruffles Thomas’s hair and swishes his jacket. He’s giving a classic smile, and it takes everything Newt has not to reach out and kiss him at that very moment. Newt smiles and raises his ice cream.

“Cheers.” They tap their sandwiches together and take a bite. Chills immediately break out down Newt’s arms; he can see goosebumps on Thomas’s face.

“Christ, this is freezing,” Newt shudders.

“Yeah, it probably wasn’t the best idea,” Thomas laughs, rubbing his arm with his free hand. Newt fights the urge to wrap him in a hug, rub his arms on his back to keep him warm. “I’m still eating it, though.”

Newt grins, licking the side of his sandwich. A bit of the cookie falls of the side, and Lola gobbles it up. Thomas gives her a loving pat on the head.

_I don’t want this to end,_ Newt thinks. A certainty is filling his gut; this isn’t going to be it.

“Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah, Newt?”

“Do you wanna walk down to my house?” he asks, trying to sound casual. “It’s only about a 10 minute walk. You can see the little dog house we got for Lola. It’s adorable.”

Thomas smiles, looking down at Lola. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“Alright, cool,” Newt nods, still trying to sound casual and, probably, failing. “Come on. We can eat and walk.”

***

It’s relatively empty on the way to Newt’s house. A couple of people pass, scarves wrapped tightly around them, giving curious looks to the two boys eating ice cream in November. But the air is quiet and still; a few snowflakes flicker and dance in the air, too light to land. The air is a crisp, clean white, and puffy clouds cast a gray over the streets.

Their arms bump every now and then, too preoccupied in their conversation to notice the tangled swinging of their arms. All Newt can think about is holding Thomas’ hand, wrapping their fingers together, walking down the road. He wonders how it would feel. He wonders what Thomas would do if he tried.

They finally make it to Newt’s house. It’s a two story, classic cookie-cutter, with blue paneling and a glass door.

“Here it is,” Newt gestures. “S’not much, but it’s home.”

“It’s nice,” Thomas says politely. _It’s average._ Newt knows that.

Newt leads them up the stairs, using his key to unlock the door. His parents both work for most of the day, and don’t come home until later. They head up the next set of stairs to the main floor.

“You want a drink?” Newt asks, nodding towards the kitchen. In all honesty, he’s not sure what to do at this point. He didn’t think he’d make it this far. He never thought that Thomas would actually be in his house.

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Thomas says, shaking his head. Newt nods, awkwardly standing in the hallway. He’s so afraid to do something that’ll mess this up, that he’s...well, not doing anything. Luckily, Thomas fills the uncomfortable silence for him.

“Oh, sweet, you have a record player?” He walks over to the vintage machine Newt’s dad had restored a couple of years back.

“You like old music, Tommy?”

“A little. I just think this is so cool. You don’t really see these anymore.” He’s inspecting the sides, tracing his hand along the wooden sides, like a curious cat that just discovered something new. “Does it still work?”

“Yeah, actually. Let me show you.” Newt heads over to the records selection, filing through. “Any requests?”

“You got anything by Queen?”

Newt looks through, quickly flipping through the large folders for the vinyls. Finally, he finds out and pulls it out, placing the disk on the machine. He lowers the needle, and the disk starts spinning. The classic song _Somebody to Love_ starts playing. Thomas’ face glows with delight; he looks like a little kid who just found a new toy.

“Oh, this is awesome.” He starts gently bobbing his head to the music.

“I didn’t know you were a Queen fan,” Newt comments, watching Thomas with an amused smile.

“My mom played their stuff all the time growing up,” Thomas explains.

“Yeah, my dad used to play all kinds of stuff,” Newt responds. “The Stones, Queen, Elvis, and especially the Beatles. You know, being a Brit and all.”

Thomas laughs. “Of course.”

Newt realizes he’s still in his winter jacket, and that he’s starting to sweat slightly.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. Feel free to make yourself at home, take off your shoes, whatever.” 

_Jesus, I sound like a mum,_ Newt thinks, cursing himself. Thomas nods, distracted by the sound of Freddy Mercury.

Newt walks down the hall to his room, taking off his jacket in the process. As he hangs it up in his closet, he notices something white out of the corner of his eye. He turns and finds all of the drawings of Tommy and Lola scattered on the floor. _They must have fallen out of my folder._

“Oh, Christ,” he whispers to himself. He starts rushing to pile them all together, trying his best not to crumple them while also hurrying before Thomas gets worried. He turns to grab one paper and trips over his art supplies box, landing face-first on the carpet. The thud shocks him, and he groans from the impact.

“Newt?” Thomas calls from down the hall. “Are you alright in there?”

Newt’s heart starts racing in his chest. “Yeah, m’fine, just -- just tripped, that’s all.”

He quickly scrambles to his feet, getting the last picture and placing it in his folder. He can hear footsteps coming down the hall. Panicking, he starts looking for a place to hide the folder. He finally decides to shove it under his bed when he hears Lola walk in, the tag on her collar ringing. He looks over his shoulder, on all fours right next to the bed, and sees that Lola has a glove in her mouth.

“Lola? What do you have there?” Before he can turn to take it from her, Thomas comes into his room, chuckling. He stops when he sees Newt’s odd position. Newt quickly scrambles up, dusting himself off.

“Newt? What are you doing?”

“Oh, I was just, uh…” he racks his brain for an excuse. “I thought I saw a spider. Yeah. That’s it.”

Thomas nods, a look of slight disbelief coming over his face. “Right.”

Newt remembers Lola and the glove. “Oh, is this your glove, Tommy?” He bends down to Lola’s eye level.

“Yeah. I took it off and Lola just snatched it out of my hand and came down here.”

“Did she, now?” Newt says with slight agitation. He looks at Lola, and he _swears_ he can see her smiling. He takes the glove out of her mouth. _Christ, I got a bloody matchmaker instead of a therapy dog._

“Sorry about that. She _usually_ doesn’t do these things.” He puts some emphasis on that towards Lola, as his way of telling her not to try anything stupid like that again. He stands up and hands the glove back to Thomas, who nods his thanks.

Thomas looks around the room, eyeing the posters on the walls. It’s mostly band posters; the Beatles, Rise Against, Falling In Reverse, the Doors. He has some art up, too; drawings of superheroes, paintings of the park, candids of his friends (all two of them). Thomas walks over to one of Spider-Man, arm outstretched to shoot his web, almost three-dimensional. He smiles.

“This is awesome,” he compliments. “It looks like it’s straight from the movie.”

Newt tries to avoid the praise. “Tobey McGuire or Andrew Garfield?”

“Andrew Garfield,” Thomas answers confidently. “Definitely.”

Newt smiles. “Good choice.”

“Alright, what about this; Gwen Stacy or Mary Jane?” Newt freezes, not sure how to answer the question. He’s sure Thomas means which one is better-looking. While Newt can obviously recognize that both of them are beautiful, he doesn’t exactly have a preference.

“Um, MJ, I guess,” he answers, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” Thomas asks. He’s pushing, and Newt doesn’t want to give the honest answer. “They’re so different, come on. You have to like one better.”

Newt shrugs again, flustered. “I don’t know, Tommy. I don’t really care.”

Thomas sighs, giving up, for the moment. “Well, I like Gwen better,” he says, turning back towards the wall. “I’ve always had a thing for blondes.”

“Teresa’s a brunette.”

“Well, I like both, then,” he answers. “But I prefer blondes.”

Newt stays silent, not wanting to talk about Teresa or girls or hair anymore. Thomas turns around, eyeing the rest of the room. His eyes land on the TV opposite Newt’s bed. Underneath it is a small entertainment system, with an XBOX 360, Wii, and PS4 all stacked neatly. His collection of games is on the shelf below. Thomas’ eyes widen.

“Oh, sweet,” he says excitedly. He moves over to the shelf and starts skimming through Newt’s array of games.

“You up for a game, Tommy?” Newt asks, eager at the idea of them actually doing something instead of awkward small talk.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Thomas answers. “Here. I know just the one.” He pulls out _Super Smash Bros._ for the Wii and waves the reflective case in front of Newt, a sly grin on his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those Smash junkies," Newt groans.

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Thomas answers, toying with his words. “I just happen to enjoy honing my skill in the art of beating up various Nintendo characters.”

Newt laughs, accepting the clear challenge. “Alright. You’re on, Tommy.”

Thomas grins a Cheshire Cat smile, mouth stretched from ear to ear, eyes lit up like a cat about to toy with its food.

Newt sets up the game and plops down on the floor, back rested against his bed. Thomas sits next to him, slightly hunched over, hands gripped tightly on the controller. He’s getting in the zone.

Newt isn’t very good at Smash. He’s not. As fun as it is to play on your own, it's really a game meant for at least two people. Until now, that opportunity hasn’t exactly come about. So he’s sure Thomas is about to whip his ass to Timbuktu.

They start up the game; Thomas chooses Fox, and Newt chooses Link. They choose a plain, flat battlefield, and turn all items off. _Great. Less help for me._

The fight starts; Thomas is quick, pulling off evades, counters, and blocks like he could do them in his sleep. Newt is more clumsy; he hasn’t played in a while, so he goes for distance attacks, using Link’s bombs and arrows to avoid getting hit.

“You know, I dressed up as Link for Halloween last year,” Newt comments as he desperately tries to avoid Fox’s laser gun.

“Oh, don’t try and distract me,” Thomas mumbles.

“How is that distracting? Just idle chatter.”

“Because now I’m thinking about you in the Link costume. You know, with the hat and the freaking elf ears.”

“So? What’s so bloody distracting about that?”

“I don’t know. You’d look...I don’t know. Just stop distracting me, alright? I almost fell off the freaking ledge.”

Newt cheats a glance over at Thomas. There’s a pink blush tickling his nose and his cheeks. He would look _what?_ He thought, for a silly second, that Thomas was going to say _cute_. But that probably wasn’t it. Right?

Newt realizes he’s been looking at Thomas for too long when his Wii Remote vibrates; he’s been knocked off the edge. Thomas pumps his fist in the air.

“Oh, yeah! Told you I’m good.”

“Game’s not over yet, Tommy.”

They keep fighting; Newt’s starting to get in the groove of the game. He watches Tommy’s patterns, realizes his strategy. He starts going for more direct offense rather than distance attacks, and manages to knock off one of Thomas’ lives.

“Ha! Take that.”

“Like you said. Game’s not over.”

They keep going; they’re down to two lives a piece. They’re both hunched over, brows furrowed and eyes slightly squinted, hands tense from gripping the controllers. Newt moves his leg at one point and bumps into Thomas’ knee; he realizes then that they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, their sides touching. Newt knows they weren’t that close when they sat down, and he’s not sure when they moved closer.

Thomas knocks Newt off the stage again; he’s down to one life.

“Oh, fuck,” Newt angrily whispers. He leans forward even more, as if his posture will somehow make him better at the game. Thomas is in the zone now; he sees his shot at victory, and he’s not giving it up. He busts out the combos he’s been holding on to; he’s hitting Newt around in the air like a hackey sack, and there’s nothing Newt can do about it. Finally, with one last, triumphant kick, Link is shot off the screen, and the screen declares Fox the winner.

Thomas holds both arms in the air, acknowledging an imaginary audience.

“Thank you, thank you. I know, I’m great.”

“Oh, shut it, Tommy,” Newt teases. “We get it, you’re a bloody Smash nerd.”

“You’re just mad because I kicked your ass,” Thomas quips, smirking at Newt. “I know you’re jealous of my skills.”

Newt knows this isn’t the time to be thinking of this, but he can’t help but be aware of how close their bodies are; their sides pressed together, knees knocking against each other. He can feel Thomas’ body move as he breathes, can smell the hint of faded cologne on his hoodie. And Thomas is smirking at him, his eyes challenging, completely dominating. Newt wants to kiss the smirk right off of his face. He can imagine it now, but shakes the thought before he imagines something else and the makes the situation uncomfortable for everyone.

So Newt gives into the challenge. For now.

“What do you say, then? Another round?”

Thomas’ smirk widens. “Oh, you’re going down.” 


	6. Movies and Platonic Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's exactly what the title implies. Also, Newt's parents show up. That's fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to give another thanks to everyone for leaving kudos and comments on this! It means a lot. And to those of you who are frustrated that they aren't kissing; keep this in mind. This fic is around 80k. You have a lot of waiting to do. But it's worth it, I promise.

They play Smash for another hour; Thomas winning most of them, Newt managing to win one round after convincing Thomas to turn items on. He turned them back off right after Newt won. 

It feels so _normal_ between them, like they aren’t just boys who met two months ago at a dog park and sat on a bench every Saturday to talk about comic books and NCIS. It’s like they’ve known each other since they were kids, like they’ve always had this air of easiness with each other, this comfortableness, this type of connection and friendship that they don’t even have to try for; it just happens.

Newt’s never had this kind of connection with a person before. And he certainly doesn’t think it’s normal for two people to be this close so soon.

They’re in the middle of another round when they hear noise from the living room.

“Newty?” his mother’s voice calls. “I’m home, love!”

_Oh, Christ. She’s here. She’s going to ruin everything. Fuck._

“I’m in here, mum,” Newt calls, pausing the game.

Thomas turns toward Newt, chuckling. “Newty?”

“Oh, shut it.”

Newt’s mom comes in the door, then stops abruptly when she sees Thomas.

“Oh, now, who is this young lad?”

“This is my friend, Thomas. Tommy, this is my mum.”

Thomas stands up and shakes her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Edison.”

“Oh, please, call me Linda,” his mom replies enthusiastically. “It’s so nice to have one of Newt’s friends around here. He hasn’t had one come by in a while, you know, and-”

Newt clears his throat loudly. “Oh, mum, where’s dad?”

“He’s still at work, love, he’ll be back soon.” She looks at Thomas for a moment, then at Newt, then back again. Her eyes light up. “Say, are you the one Newt’s been going to the park with every Saturday? Because you know, I asked him why he was going there all the time as of late and he goes, ‘I’ve got a friend mum, don’t worry’ and I’m guessing that friend is you. It’s good to know my little Newty’s got a park pal.”

Newt clears his throat even louder, his eyes widening, face burning. “Mum.”

His mom looks at him, confusion on her face. Her senses kick in, and she shakes her head slightly.

“Right. Sorry. I’m being the embarrassing mum, and all. Keep doing what you’re doing, loves, I’ll leave you be.”

“Actually, I should probably get going,” Thomas replies, looking at the time. “My mom’s expecting me.”

_Bloody hell. She actually scared him away. I didn’t think she could manage that._

“Here, I’ll walk you out,” Newt offers, wanting to apologize in private for his mom’s cringe-worthy behavior.

Thomas nods. “It was nice meeting you, Linda.” He shakes her hand again, a courteous smile on his face.

“You as well, Tommy,” she replies, grinning. Newt cringes at his mom calling Thomas by the same nickname he uses; it doesn’t sound right coming from her.

Thomas heads out the door. Newt follows, quickly pulling on a jacket. They head out the front door, and Thomas stops on the porch.

“That was fun,” Thomas grins, hands in his pockets. “I’m glad I could meet your mom, too.”

“Yeah, m’sorry about that,” Newt apologizes sheepishly. “She can be a bit odd. Still treats me like I’m a kid, you know?”

“It’s fine. She seemed nice.”

“Yeah. She’s nice, all right.”

There’s a moment of silence between them; the cloudy November sky hushes the air like a quilt. They’re both hesitating, like they each have something they want to say but are hoping for the other one to go first. Newt swallows his courage and goes first, for once.

“So I’ll be seeing you around, then?”

This isn’t your normal _be seeing you,_ like when you say “I’ll talk to you later” to someone you know fully well you won’t be seeing later. This is an actual question, an actual commitment to Thomas coming back here, to Newt’s house. If Thomas did that, Newt would know that their obvious connection isn’t something he made up. That there’s more here than just two dog-park buddies.

Thomas nods confidently. “Of course. And you better sharpen up your skills, too. I kicked your ass today.”

Newt laughs. “I wasn’t too bad. But I’ll practice.”

“Good. And I still need to see Lola’s dog house.”

“Sure thing, Tommy.”

“Alright. I’ll see you later.” Newt waves, watching as Thomas walks down the driveway.

Once Newt gets back inside, he allows himself to smile; a stupid, useless, toothy smile. He’s blushing all over, and he knows that he’s crushing on Tommy, hard. He doesn’t care if Thomas likes girls, or that he’d never like him back. Just him being there with him; that’s enough.

His mom comes down the hall, then, a slightly knowing look on her face. Newt tries to suppress his smile, with little avail.

“He seems like a nice boy,” she says, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Newt answers, not bothering to hide his smile, “he is.”

***

The next day, Newt is sitting on the living room couch, reading Hamlet for English class. It’s a calm afternoon; light snowflakes tickle and dust the ground, and the room is streaked with lines of white that escape from the curtains. Newt’s parents are out to brunch with some friends, so the house is quiet and still.

He’s getting right to the good part (Laertes has poisoned the sword!) when the doorbell rings. Confused, Newt gets up and opens the door.

It’s Thomas, snowflakes sprinkled over his hair and glasses. His cheeks are flushed red from the cold, and his lips are a bright shade of pink. He takes one arm from behind his back and waves a case in the air; Newt squints his eyes and notices its _The Amazing Spider-Man._

“Movie time,” Thomas declares with a smile. “I swear, if I study for this Trig test for one more minute, I’m gonna have a breakdown.”

He passes Newt and enters the house without permission. Newt would normally see this is as rude, but this time he doesn’t; he likes that Thomas is entering without permission, claiming the house as part of his own, claiming that their friendship is close enough that Thomas can just show up whenever he wants. It means moving on from just Saturdays. It could be any day. Any time.

“Please, come in,” Newt says sarcastically. “Do you want some tea? Biscuits? Make yourself at home.”

“Do you really drink tea?” Thomas asks, looking around the walls for a DVD player. “Cause that would be, like, super British of you.”

“I might,” Newt retorts, watching with a smirk as Thomas searches. The DVD player is in his room. “And I might eat fish and chips, too. What can I say, Tommy?”

Thomas scoffs. “Of course. Hey, where’s your DVD player? I swear I saw one in here last week.”

Newt laughs. “It’s in my room, you weirdo. I’ll bring it in.”

He heads off to his room. As he’s heading down the hall, he sees Lola burst out of her sleeping place in his room, practically galloping down the hall. She barks once, and Newt turns, watching Lola run to Thomas.

“Hey, Lola!” Thomas says in his usual cooing voice. He puts the DVD down and bends down to pick Lola up. She licks his face enthusiastically, and he rubs their noses together.

Newt’s heart surges in his chest. He can’t believe how affectionate Lola is with Thomas. He also can’t believe how affectionate Thomas is with her, since he loves cats so much. Still, it warms his heart to see something so ridiculously and stupidly adorable happening just a couple feet away from him.

Smiling, he heads to his room to get the DVD player. While he’s unplugging the system, he notices his drawing table has been left unclean. _Shit._

The drawing he just did is sitting there, along with his various drawing pencils all scattered about. He had just finished another drawing of Thomas; this one of him playing Smash, hunched forward, veins popping in his hands as he grips the Wii Remote. It was one of the funnier pieces Newt had drawn.

He quickly cleans up the pencils and lovingly shoves the drawing under his bed with the rest of his pictures. He’s not sure he ever wants Thomas to see those. He would probably think it was creepy and stop talking to him altogether.

Satisfied that the drawings are hidden well, he finishes unplugging the DVD player and carries it back to the living room. He’s not surprised to see Thomas still affectionately petting Lola.

“Should I leave you two alone?” he teases, setting down the system.

Thomas rolls his eyes and puts Lola down. “Ha, ha. Very funny.”

“I mean it. You two are having a bloody lovefest over there. I think she’s starting to forget who her owner is.” _And that she’s a therapy dog._

“Hey, I’ll gladly take her off your hands. Not sure Brenda will appreciate it very much, though.” Brenda was the name of Thomas’ cat; a three-year-old black cat, who generally hates anyone who isn’t Thomas and tends to scratch up everything.

“Yeah, don’t think that’s a good idea.” Newt finishes setting up the DVD player and puts the disc in, pushing the tray closed. “You want anything to eat? Popcorn?”

“Sure. Sounds good.” Thomas nods as he plops on the couch.

Newt chuckles to himself. _So much for being polite._

He heads to the kitchen and starts popping a bowl of popcorn in the microwave.

“Newt, where are your parents?” Thomas calls from the living room.

“Out at brunch,” Newt answers. “They’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, if they aren't here then we can make the movie really loud."

Newt laughs again. He’s been laughing a lot more lately.

“Sure. I'll blast it just for you."

Newt heads back into the living room, setting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. He plops down next to Thomas, who rests his feet on the table. Newt lightly slaps him on the side.

“Get your feet down. It’s right next to the bloody food.”

Thomas rolls his eyes again. “So-o-rry.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Thomas is clearly more comfortable around him now. Sighing, he hits play on the remote, starting the movie.

They sit in silence for a while; laughing when they should, making obnoxious comments, comparing it to the original. Eventually, they move the popcorn over to between their legs, absently eating it as they watch. Their hands bump a couple of times as they dig around; there’s always a split moment of hesitation before they move away. They finish it in ten minutes, dejectedly putting it back on the table. Newt only had one bag of popcorn.

At one point, Thomas starts rubbing his arms with his hands, shivering slightly. Newt pauses the movie, turns towards him.

“You cold, Tommy?”

“A little. You guys got a heater, or something?”

Newt sighs. “It’s on. Here, I’ll get you a blanket.”

He heads over to the hallway closet, pulling out a thick blanket covered in panda bears. It was a gift from his mom a couple of years ago. He wishes he could find one less…child-like, but it was the only one he could see. He carries it over and plops it on the couch next to Thomas.

“Here. S’all yours.”

“Thanks, Newt,” Thomas says, his voice laced with gratitude. Newt sits back down next to him.

Thomas starts spreading out the blanket, but he doesn’t just cover his lap; he puts it over Newt as well.

“Now you can be warm, too.”

Newt tries his best to hide a blush. He wasn’t exactly cold. He always feels a strange sort of warmth whenever he’s near Thomas. Still, he’s grateful.

“Thank you.”

They resume the movie; Peter is flirting with Gwen, admittedly awkwardly.

“So you really like MJ over Gwen?” Thomas asks.

Newt groans internally. _Not this again._ “I guess.”

“How, though? Gwen actually _does_ stuff. And she’s _way_ prettier.”

“MJ’s not pretty?”

“They’re _both_ pretty,” Thomas exclaims, sounding slightly exaggerated. “Look, the point is, Gwen is prettier. I don’t get how you like MJ more.”

“I really don’t care, Tommy,” Newt assures him. “I just-”

Before Newt can continue (and potentially stick his gay foot in his mouth), Lola moves from her spot in her doggie bed to the couch, snuggling in the space between their legs. Newt laughs and starts rubbing her head.

“Hi, Lola. Glad you could join us.”

Thomas rubs along her back, a small smile on his face. She stays there for a few minutes until she decides she’s uncomfortable and moves over to Newt’s lap. Newt is relieved; he was starting to think Lola liked Thomas more.

“Hey, where are you going?” Thomas asks Lola. He scoots over, close enough that his arms bumps into Newt’s, and their knees knock together, just like on the silly park bench. “Don’t leave me hanging like that, Lola.” He starts petting her again.

“Friendly reminder that she is _my_ dog, Tommy.”

“Oh, please. She loves me.”

“My dog, Tommy.”

Another minute passes, and Lola once again decides she’s uncomfortable. She moves over to Thomas’ lap and sits.

Newt scoffs. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Ha! Who’s dog is it now?”

“Still mine, Tommy.”

“Sure, Newt. Sure.”

The movie continues; they watch Uncle Ben get shot by the thief, Peter crying over his body. Newt never liked this part. It always made him sad to watch it. He couldn’t imagine having to stand over the body of someone you loved after they’d been shot and killed. The pain that would cause someone. He didn’t like to think about it.

The scene finally ends. Lola decides, again, that she needs to move. Thomas sighs, seemingly expecting her to head over to Newt’s lap. Instead, she stays in the middle, her head on Newt’s thigh and her legs on Thomas’ thigh. Both Newt and Thomas nod in contentment. They absentmindedly pet her as they watch.

The whole atmosphere is so relaxing; the warm blanket, the gentle snowfall outside, the movie, rubbing Lola’s fur. Newt starts to feel sleepy and finds his head drifting to the side, almost falling onto his own shoulder. He’s about to push himself back up when Thomas’ head falls next to his, their hair ruffling together. Newt stills, expecting Thomas to move, but he just stays there, relaxing into Newt. Newt’s heart starts beating like a jackhammer; he’s sure Thomas can hear it.

A few more minutes pass in the movie; Newt’s relaxation moves to slight dizziness from being this close to Thomas. Their heads shift slightly every now and then, and their hands slow down in Lola’s fur, just absently stroking her. Even Lola seems to be falling asleep.

At one point, Thomas’ head falls from Newt’s head to his shoulder, snuggling himself in the crook of Newt’s neck. Newt’s heart stops for what he swears to be a solid 10 seconds, and he feels like he can barely breathe. This kind of closeness is _dizzying._

Newt tilts his head to rest on top of Thomas’; he notices that if he turned just slightly, he could kiss the top of his head.

Newt’s not even paying attention to the movie anymore; all he can think about is how he can feel Thomas’ breathing on his neck, the way his head is nestled perfectly in there, how he _swears_ he hears Thomas give a content sigh at some point, how their fingers are starting to lace together in Lola’s fur. Every part of Newt is screaming, telling him _this is not normal this is not what friends do you can not let this happen stop it,_ but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t.

They’re at the part in the film where Peter reveals that he’s Spider-Man to Gwen. They start to kiss. Newt gives a small sigh of jealousy; he’s never kissed anyone before. He’d really like to. In fact, he’d really like to kiss the person who is basically cuddling with him right now.

He turns his head slightly to look down at Thomas; Thomas is already starting to lift his head a little, turns to look at Newt. Their eyes meet, a spark of electricity waking them from their sleepiness. Newt could kiss him right now; he’s _right there_ , their faces are so close, he could _almost swear_ Thomas looked at his lips, he could just kiss him, he could just-

Both of them are startled by the sound of the door opening. They turn, Thomas still leaning on Newt’s shoulder. His parents enter, laughing about probably some horrible joke his dad just told. They stop when they see them on the couch, under a blanket, their heads oddly close together. His mom smiles knowingly, and Newt bolts upright, forcing Thomas to lift his head from his shoulder. Lola hops off the couch and trots over to say hello.

“Oh, hi, mum,” Newt stammers, the blood rushing to his face.

“Well, hello, Newty,” she replies, smirking. Newt cringes at the nickname. “I see Tommy’s back again.”

Newt cringes at that nickname, too. Thomas clears his throat and waves.

“Hi, Linda. Hope you don’t mind me coming over.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem at all,” Newt’s dad answers, heading to the couch and holding out his hand. “You must be Thomas. I’m Andy. It’s nice to meet you.”

Thomas shakes his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, sir. Lovely place you got here.” _  
_

“Thank you, Thomas. Bought it myself,” he laughs as if that was a joke.

“I’m glad to see you two are making use of my quilt,” his mom comments, gesturing to the blanket. “Glad it’s keeping you warm while you...do whatever it was you were doing.” _Oh my god._

“We were just watching a movie, mum,” Newt assures her, trying his hardest not to turn a million shades of red.

“Right, right. Of course. Either way, glad you could make do.”

Thomas starts to pull the blanket off him. “Actually, I’m feeling kind of warm now.” _Oh my god. Is he blushing, too? Holy shit. What is going on?_

“Course you are,” his mom replies. She clears her throat. “Anyway, we’ll let you get back to your movie.”

“It was nice meeting you, Thomas,” Newt’s dad replies, nodding as he leaves the room.

“You, too, Mr. Edi-um, Andy.”

They both chuckle as they head down to their bedroom. Newt groans in frustration, leaning his head back against the couch.

“They are so embarrassing. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I like them,” Thomas comforts him, smiling sincerely. “Wish my mom was as nice as yours.”

“Yeah, and I bet you wished she knitted you panda blankets when you were 16, too,” he jokes, gesturing at the now crumpled blanket on the floor.

“Yeah, actually,” Thomas answers, giving a small laugh. “That would be nice.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “Sure, Tommy.” He hits play, and the movie starts up again, but Newt can’t focus at all.


	7. Dinner With the Edisons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas stays for dinner! Yay!

They sit in relative silence for the rest of the film; they crack jokes every now and then, but the anxiety from his parents being home is getting to Newt, so he doesn’t speak up much. He also manages to inconspicuously shift away from Thomas so they aren’t touching anymore. He doesn’t feel like dealing with anymore assumptions from his mom today.

As Newt puts the DVD back in the case, Thomas spots Hamlet sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

“Oh, dude, were you reading this?” he asks, picking it up and examining it.

“Yeah. It’s for English class.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was interrupting.” _Aaaaaand back to being polite. Alright, then._

“S’alright. I already know what happens.”

“Ah.”

“You ever read it?”

Thomas shakes his head. “I’m a junior, remember?”

“Right. Sorry. I forget sometimes.”

Thomas shakes his head and sighs, standing up. “I wish I could be a senior. Junior year sucks. I’m taking so many freaking classes. I’ve got homework up to my eyeballs. And I still have to start thinking about college.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“Yeah, well. I needed a break.”

Newt gives a sympathetic look, feeling a wave of pity.

“Don’t worry. You can get through it. You’re a smart kid. You can basically figure out the ending to any NCIS episode right at the beginning.”

Thomas laughs. “That’s cause I marathon it like a loser.”

“Still. Wish I was that smart. I got along in school doing the bare minimum.”

“You seem like you’re smart.”

Newt shrugs. “M’alright.”

Suddenly, Newt’s mom makes her way down the hall, a notebook in hand. She perks up when she sees Thomas.

“Oh, good!” she says, smiling. “You’re still here. Me and Andy were wondering if you’d like to stay for dinner. I’ve got this great new recipe I wanted to try.” She gestures to the notebook. _Oh my god. Mum, stop._

Newt expects Thomas to reject the offer, go back home and study, but instead he smiles gratefully.

“Sure. Sounds great. What are you making?”

“Oh, some sort of fancy pasta. It’s Italian, I don’t know the name. But trust me, it’ll be delicious!” With an excited clap of her hands, she heads off to the kitchen.

“Guess I’m staying a while,” Thomas observes with a smirk. Newt returns the smirk.

“I guess you are. You up for a game of Smash?”

“Actually…” Thomas says sheepishly, looking at the ground. “I was hoping you could explain Hamlet to me. So I don’t have to stress over it next year.”

“Oh. Alright.” He moves over to the couch and sits, taking the book with him. “What do you want to know?”

“Just the plot, I guess. Some characters. The basic stuff.”

“Alright. Well, it’s about this prince. Hamlet. He’s the prince of Denmark, and everyone loves him.”

“Okay.”

“And then his dad is murdered, and shortly after his mum marries his uncle.”

Thomas scrunches his face. “Gross.”

“Yup. So basically, his dad’s ghost comes down and tells him to avenge his death. So the play is basically Hamlet procrastinating murdering his uncle, Claudius.”

"Okay, so who else is in it?” 

“Well, there’s Horatio. He’s Hamlet’s best friend. They met in school. He’s kind of his right hand man. Helps guide him, sticks by his side. He’s the only one who knows Hamlet isn’t really crazy.” 

“Sounds like a stand-up guy.” 

“He is. And he _lives_ , too. He’s basically the only one.” 

“Huh.”

“Then there’s Ophelia. Now, she’s the love interest.” 

“Okay.”

“They flirt for a bit; they send letters and stuff. And then Ophelia is banned from seeing Hamlet. So Hamlet gets mad, and then Ophelia goes crazy. Then she kills herself.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why would she do that?” 

Newt shrugs. “She went crazy.” 

Thomas nods, skimming through the pages. He stops on a section, squints, reading the passage. He turns the page to Newt and points. 

“Hey, what does this mean?”

“You don’t know?” 

Thomas shrugs. “I may be smart, but Shakespeare was never my thing.” 

“Oh.” Newt looks at the page and reads it. “To be, or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them.”

“Yeah. What’s it mean?”

“Well, Hamlet is basically kicking the piss out of himself because he can’t bring himself to kill Claudius. And everyone in his life is leaving him. So he’s starting to feel pretty depressed.” 

“Okay, but what is he saying?” 

Newt chuckles. “Patient, Tommy. I’m getting there.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“So basically ‘to be or not to be’ means ‘to live or not live’. He’s asking whether it is nobler to suffer through life or just…” 

Thomas furrows his eyebrows. “Or just what?” 

Newt swallows, suddenly feeling anxious and guilty. “Or just kill yourself.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Newt looks away, scratching his neck. 

“Lots of suicide in this play.”

“Lots of suicide in the world, Tommy. People suffer.”

“Why would you do that, though?” Thomas pushes. “Kill yourself, I mean.” 

Newt pauses, dancing around the answer, because he knows it, and he knows it all too well. But Thomas shouldn’t know that. 

But he’s starting to think he doesn’t know the answer. That all of the reasons he wanted to die before seemed silly, foolish. _I didn’t think I was talented. I didn’t think anybody really cared about me. I didn’t think there was anybody I could care about._ _Anyone that could make me feel happy again._

But here’s Thomas, sitting right in front of him, waiting patiently for an answer. His hair is ruffled from leaning against the couch, and his glasses are smudged slightly. And _god,_ _he is just so beautiful._

So Newt goes with the honest answer.

“I don’t know, Tommy. I can’t imagine why.” 

*** 

They talk about Hamlet for a little while longer; Newt explains the side characters, their roles, reads a couple passages and helps Thomas figure out how to translate them.

“You make this sound so easy,” Thomas states at one point. “You’re reading this like you freaking wrote it.” 

Newt shrugs, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I guess.”

At one point, he goes to the kitchen to offer his mom help with the cooking. She stands at the stove, stirring something around in a pot. It smells familiar.

Before Newt can even say anything, she talks without turning around.

“Seems you two are getting on.”

Newt prays Thomas can’t hear that. _Getting on._ As if they were on a _date._

“Yeah,” is all Newt says. He doesn’t feel like egging her on. “So, what are you making?” 

“I told you, Newt. It’s an Italian recipe. I can’t pronounce it.” 

“Mum, it smells like something we’ve made before.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know why, Newty.”

Newt sees the notebook on the counter, moves over to it. It’s blank. Confused, he flips through the notebook, looking for writing. Blank, blank, blank.

“Mum.” 

“Yes, Newty?” 

“There’s no recipe, is there?” 

She keeps stirring, a mischievous grin on her face. “Maybe.” 

Newt groans. “ _Mum_.” 

“Look, I wanted to give him a reason to stay for dinner!” she defends herself. “You seem so happy around him. I thought it’d be nice if we got to know your new boy-”

Newt immediately starts coughing, obnoxiously loud and very fake. She stops, startled. 

“You alright, love?”

Newt leans in close, lowers his voice to an agitated whisper. “Mum, he is literally right there, and he is not my boyfriend. We’re just mates. Alright?” 

She smirks, turning the burner off. “Sure he’s not, love. Not yet.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Make this really embarrassing for me. Okay? We’re just friends.”

“Love, friends don’t cuddle when they watch a movie.” 

“We weren’t cuddling!” Newt angrily whispers. _Yes we were._

“Whatever you say.” She giggles as she moves the pot to the table. “Alright, Tommy, soups’ on!”

*** 

The dinner goes by relatively smoothly; per Newt’s request, his mom strays away from suggestive comments during the meal. His parents ask Thomas about school, and nod approvingly when they hear that he’s in almost all advanced classes. He tells them about how he’s started looking at colleges, and he names some of the top ones in the state (Newt squirms uncomfortably, remembering how he hasn’t even started thinking about it.) His parents beam and wish him the best of luck. 

They ask him about sports; he tells them he was on track until this year. 

“You were a runner, Tommy?” Newt asked, surprised by this new information.

Thomas shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve been on track since I was a kid. Had to stop this year because my workload was too heavy. Plus, I wasn’t really liking it anymore.” 

“Whatever do you mean?” his father asked. 

Thomas shrugged again, poking at some pieces of pasta. 

“I don’t really know. I used to love running. I always felt...compelled to do it. Like I was supposed to, you know? And I loved the rush of it. The adrenaline. Feeling your heartbeat in your chest, thinking you were gonna explode. And the relief at the end, when you finally cross the finish line and know that you’ve made it.” He trailed off for a moment, looking off into the distance. “At the end of last year, I wasn’t feeling that anymore. I just felt tired. Bored. Like there were so many more productive things I could be doing than running in a circle.” 

“Aw, that’s a shame, Thomas,” his father said.

“I’m sure you’ll find your passion for it again someday,” his mother insisted. 

They ask him about what he does for fun. The answers are what Newt already knows; reading mystery novels, reading comic books, watching NCIS episodes, playing with Brenda.

“Oh, yeah, Newt’s been giving you some comics, isn’t that right?” his mother questioned. Newt scrunched his eyebrows. He hadn’t told her about the comics.

“Yeah, he has. They’re really cool. I check some out at the library all the time.” 

“That’s nice, Tommy,” she smiled, a gleam in her eye.

Eventually, the dinner is over, and Thomas’ mom calls for him to come home. He thanks Newt’s parents politely and leaves, telling Newt that he’ll “see him soon”. 

Barely two seconds after Thomas is out the door, Newt turns to find his parents grinning from ear to ear. 

“Oh, he’s a lovely boy, really, he is,” his mother beams. 

“He’s an all-star. He did track, he’s in advanced classes, he’s got good hobbies. And he’s very well mannered,” his father adds. 

“Um, I’m glad you like him,” Newt answers, unsure where they’re going with this.

“Yes, we do like him. He really would make a lovely boyfriend,” his father responds.

Newt chokes on some air, coughs for a moment to right himself. First his mom, now his dad, too? 

“What makes you think he would be my boyfriend?” Newt asks. 

“Oh, I’ve seen the way you look at him. It’s like how you looked at James Dean when we watched _East of Eden_ when you were a lad,” his mother suggests. 

“Mum, I was five when we watched that.” 

“I know. But you were in love! A mum knows these things.”

“Look, mum, I’m not in love with him. He’s just my friend. And that’s all he’s going to be.”

His dad walks up and claps his shoulder. “Oh, I know that’s not what you want. You fancy this kid. We can tell.” 

“Why do you think I even like boys?”

“Newty. It’s obvious.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It is not!” 

His father sighs. “Look, all we’re trying to say is that, if by chance you happen to fancy him, and if he were to fancy you back, which I think is likely, then he would be a lovely boy for you. That’s all.” 

Newt nods. “Alright, dad. Thanks, I guess.” 

He smiles and claps him on the shoulder again. “There’s my Newty.”


	8. You Bite Your Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas tries to study, but gets distracted.

Two days later, Newt is sitting in his room, drawing a picture of Lola. She’s sleeping at the end of his bed, curled up into a perfect circle. Newt sits on the other side, his legs propped up, drawing on a folder on his knees.

It’s another calm day; the air is still, but the ground is fresh and white from the snow they got yesterday. It’s high enough to cover the grass but low enough to let the cars pass by. Still, most people stay at home, so the street stays quiet.

He’s adding some shading to her body when his bedroom door bursts open. Thomas stands there, backpack slung over his shoulder, his face flushed with anger. Newt looks up, startled.

“Tommy? What are you doing here?”

“Your front door was unlocked.” He puts his backpack down and plops down on a chair near the bed.

“Um. Alright.” Lola looks up, awoken by the new noise. She sees Thomas and barks happily, hopping over to him to rub against his legs.

“Aww, damn it,” Newt complains, looking down at his half-completed drawing.

“What?”

“I was drawing her sleeping.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake her up.” The anger in his face recedes slightly, moving towards guilt. Newt sighs.

“S’alright. Just...knock next time, will ya?”

Thomas nods. “Sure.”

“So what are you bargin’ in here for, anyway? Ya looked pretty pissed when ya came in.”

“Oh, it’s stupid,” Thomas says, waving his hand.

“Come on. You can tell me.”

Thomas sighs, taps his foot. “It’s Teresa.”

Newt groans inwardly. _Of course._ “What about her?”

“Well, I have to see her at the library, like, all the time now, because of the comics and stuff. And she’s acting...weird.”

“Weird, how?”

“Weird like, nice. And friendly.”

“Okay. So why are you angry?”

“Because she can’t make up her freakin’ mind!” Thomas exclaims, throwing his head back. “One minute, she’s calling me a huge nerd and ignoring me. Then suddenly, she’s acting all nice and making jokes about Iron Man. I mean, I didn’t even know she had seen Iron Man!”

“Okay. Maybe she realized she was being a jerk to you.”

“Man, I don’t know,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Girls are weird. I’m sick of them.”

“Don’t stress, Tommy. She’s being nice. That isn’t something you should be mad about. You were the one who was saying you wished you two were friends again.”

“I know. But I didn’t think it would actually happen.”

“Well, now it is. Be grateful, Tommy.”

Thomas nods halfheartedly. “Yeah, I guess.”

Newt notices Thomas’ backpack on the ground; the zipper is practically popping open, there’s so many things shoved inside.

“What’s with the bag, Tommy? You pack your whole classroom in there?”

Thomas gives a quick laugh. “Basically. Look at all the shit I have to do.” He opens the bag and pulls out some binders, then a planner. He reads off the list.

“AP Chemistry, test review packet, due Thursday. AP Trigonometry, two chapters, all questions due Friday. Honors English, read 5 chapters of Gatsby by tomorrow. I have a packet in French and a study guide for history, too. I am literally going to die.”

“You’re not gonna die, Tommy. You just need to get to work.”

“Oh, I’m getting to work. I never stop working. Even when I’m here, I’ve got trig formulas going through my brain.” He taps his skull. Lola plops back up on the bed, adjusts herself to roughly the same position as earlier. Newt looks at her fondly.

“Alright, here’s an idea,” he suggests. “How about you stay here and work? I’ll draw Lola while you do some of your homework. I’ll even put on some music. How about it?”

Thomas nods. “Alright. Sure.”

Newt gets up and heads to his iPod, connected to some speakers. He starts scrolling through the list of songs.

“Any requests?”

“You have any Queen on that, too, or is it just the record player?”

Newt laughs. “You and your Queen, eh? Yeah, I’ve got some stuff.”

He chooses an album and sets it to a soft volume, settling back down on the bed to work.

They sit for a half hour in silence, Newt turning his focus on Lola and not on how Thomas is suddenly barging into his house again when he wasn’t invited, and also how his parents are conveniently not home. He draws diligently, adjusting the spots where Lola moved. Thomas works quietly. Newt enjoys the calming presence of him there; even if they aren’t talking, just the simple act of being together (or _being_ , together) is enough for him.

“You know, you bite your lips when you draw,” Thomas suddenly says. Newt looks up; Thomas is looking straight at him, only two questions filled out on his worksheet in the span of a half hour. Newt realizes he _has_ been biting his lip, and pulls his teeth back to feel a slight bruising.

“Oh.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Um. I don’t know. I hadn’t really noticed I did.”

“Well, you do.”

“Alright.”

“Can I see how it’s coming along?”

At first, Newt is nervous to show him, as he always is whenever someone asks to see a work in progress. But then Newt remembers how Thomas complimented his art the day they first met, meaning he had seen it in the halls and had taken the effort to match the work to the face, and how Thomas complimented Newt nearly all the time on his abilities. So he turns the page to Thomas, showing the half-drawing of Lola, her face resting carefully on the blanket, calm and relaxed.

“Oh, that’s awesome,” Thomas approves, grinning. “It looks just like her, and you’re not even done yet.”

Newt smiles, attempting to hold back a blush. “Thanks, Tommy. How’s your packet going? Is it tough?”

Thomas furrows his brow in confusion.

“Packet?” He looks down, raises his eyebrows once he sees the work in front of him. “Oh, yeah. Right. The packet. I kind of forgot I was working on it. Got a little distracted.”

“By what?”

Thomas looks back up; his eyes dart from Newt, to Lola, to the drawing, back to Newt. The look on his face is contemplative, questioning, as if he’s figuring out what to say. He gives a slight shake of the head.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

Newt nods. “Oh. Well, try and focus, alright? You can do it.”

Thomas gives a small smile. “Right.”

He looks down at the page and starts reading the questions, eyes squinted in intense focus, as if he can’t quite pay attention to what’s in front of him. As if he’s distracted.

_He’s probably still worked up about Teresa,_ Newt decides, shaking his head sadly. _Poor kid._ He focuses back on Lola, outlining the other half of her body.

They keep working in silence for a half hour longer, Newt completely in the zone of his drawing. He’s almost done with the body, and has started to work on the details of the blanket. He hasn’t done an observational drawing in a while; all of his drawings had been of Thomas after they hung out, straight from memory. It felt nice to work with something right in front of him, something tangible. It felt nice to be drawing again at all, and he knew that he owed all of his motivation to Thomas.

“Dude, you’re _still_ biting your lip,” Thomas comments from his spot in the chair. Newt looks up, startled; he had been in a bit of a daze.

“Um. Yeah. I thought we established this.”

“I know. But you’ve been biting it this whole time. Doesn’t it hurt?”

Newt presses his lips together, feels some slight soreness.

“A little.”

“Let me see.” Thomas abandons his binder to the floor and heads over to Newt, bending down slightly to examine him.

“Tommy. What the hell are you doing?”

“Stop talking. I’m trying to see if you’re bleeding.”

“If I’m blee-”

“Shh. Shut up for a second.”

He puts a finger to Newt’s mouth to silence him. He traces his fingers along his mouth for a moment, squinting his eyes to examine the details. Its such a gentle touch, Newt feels like he could melt into Thomas’ hands, just close his eyes and relax all of his stress onto Thomas, let all of his fears and anxiety and anger just melt into his hands, his soft, gentle hands. And his eyes are filled with focus and concern, and Newt isn’t sure he has ever felt anyone care about him this much, noticed the small things that he does like fiddle with his hands or bite his lips. No one’s ever paid attention to his body like this. No one’s touched him like this, and he knows that friends don’t do this, friends don’t behave this way, they don’t.

Thomas finally pulls his hand away, straightens out and sighs.

“You’re not bleeding, but you’re definitely bruised. There are literally indentations in your lips.”

“Okay. So what do you suggest I do about it?”

“I don’t know. You only use one hand to draw, right?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“So why don’t you get yourself a stress ball, or something? Something for your other hand to work with so your stress doesn’t cut your lip open.”

Newt nods, accepting the suggestion. “Sure, alright. I’ll try it.”

“Good,” Thomas answers, settling back in his seat. “I wouldn’t want to see you hurt yourself.”

Newt’s heart swells and breaks at the same time when he hears that. Because he still doesn’t know that Newt _has_ hurt himself before, hurt himself so badly he had to go to the hospital and miss two weeks of school and has to take pills every day and visit a therapist every week and was so desperate for happiness that he had to get a dog to make him feel better. He’s touched that Thomas would care so much about him, but heartbroken to know that he was _too late._

Thomas picks up the binder again and stares at the same packet, tapping his foot anxiously. Newt sees only one more question has been filled out on the page.

“Tommy, you’ve barely gotten any work done,” Newt observes.

“I know, I know. I can’t...I can’t focus right now.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know! I just feel distracted.”

Newt sighs, hating what he’s about to say.

“Look, clearly you’re not getting any work done here. Why don’t you head home, try and get some work done? You can come back after if you want. Mum’s making something nice, I think.”

Thomas looks up, a mix of hurt and annoyance in his face.

“Newt, I don’t _want_ to go home. I don’t _want_ to work. I’d rather just hang out here.”

“But don’t you have to get this stuff done?”

Thomas waves his hand. “Whatever. This packet isn’t due until Thursday. I can read Gatsby tonight before bed. I’ll be fine. I just can’t focus on this right now.”

He starts shoving the papers into his bag, crumpling them without putting them in their folders first. Newt hesitates, worried about Thomas’ slight anger and aggression. “Alright.”

Newt remembers the drawing he still hasn’t finished.

“Oh, shoot. Um...let me take a picture of Lola. One second.”

“No, it’s okay. Keep drawing. I can wait.”

“S’alright, Tommy. I can draw later.”

“No, keep going. It’s okay. I’ll just listen to Queen. Go on Twitter. Whatever.”

“You sure, Tommy?”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep going. I can tell you were in the zone.”

Newt laughs. “Alright. If you insist.”

Thomas pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through. Newt turns his attention back to his drawing, working on the pattern of the blanket again. He’s hyper-aware of Thomas’ presence now that he isn’t working, and tries his best not to focus on him. But he’s there, right in front of him, just visible through his hair. He tries not to glance at him while he works.

He realizes at one point that Thomas’ arms have fallen, and his phone lies unused in his lap. He looks up; Thomas is just sitting there, staring at his drawing, Newt’s hand held in the air above the page.

“Tommy.”

He looks up, startled. “Yeah?”

“Did you even look at your phone? At all?”

Thomas looks down, his cheeks flushing with red.

“Um. No.”

“So you’ve just been watching me draw.”

“Um...yes.”

Newt furrows his brow and gives a quick chuckle. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Thomas looks up again, a tightness forming in his jaw.

“I don’t know. I like watching people make art. I can’t do it. I like knowing how other people do it. How their hands move across the pages. How they focus on the work, how their eyes squint. How they wiggle the pencil in their hands while they figure out what to do next. How they...bite their lips.” He adds a shrug to the end. “I don’t know. I just like watching you draw. Okay?”

Newt’s chest feels like it’s so elated and swollen that it could burst, while also managing to feel like it’s cracking and ready to pour everything out, spill his heart right on the dull, gray carpet. He fights the urge to drop his drawing, walk over to the chair and grab Thomas’ face in his hands, kiss his lips, his cheek, his nose, his neck, everything, to show him how his hands move along the pages and his body and how he can bite Thomas’ lips, too, not just his own. He didn’t think it was possible for two people to connect so quickly, so purely, like he and Thomas have. It’s like they knew each other before. In another life, another time, one they can’t remember but is still engrained into their souls, two people refusing to be separated no matter what the circumstances. He didn’t think he could fall for someone so quickly.

So he smiles, full of gratitude and compassion.

“Sure, Tommy. That’s fine. That’s just fine.”


	9. Becoming Your Friend Was A Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas reveals to Newt that he got him a Christmas present. Newt doesn't know what to get him, so he calls his friend Alby for advice.

Thomas stays for a little while longer, alternating between watching Newt draw and reading Gatsby, which he dejectedly decides to try. His mom calls asking him to come home and help with dinner, so he heads out.

The room feels so empty without him. The chair he was sitting in just lays vacant against the wall. Newt sighs, finishing the last details of the drawing from memory, since Lola finally woke up and decided to run around the house for a little while.

He comes back every couple of days, the two mainly playing Smash, watching movies, or sometimes just sitting and talking. He complains about Teresa a lot, which is expected by now. He still doesn’t understand her sudden niceness towards him. Newt tries to suggest that Teresa just wanted to make amends, move past their breakup, but Thomas won’t take it. It seems that he holds grudges longer than she does. _Hypocrite_.

It’s a few days into their winter break when Thomas brings up Christmas.

“I can’t wait for you to see what I got you this year,” he mentions, smiling as he rifles through Newt’s DVD collection for the 15th time.

“What you got me?”

“You know,” Thomas continues, looking up at him. “for Christmas.”

_Shit._ Newt hadn’t even thought about getting Thomas a gift. He figured Thomas wasn’t going to get him one, for some reason.

“Oh. Right.”

“You’re gonna love it. It’s awesome,” he continues with a smile, looking back at the shelf of movies.

“I’m sure I will.”

“And I know you got me something great, too. Not as great as my gift, of course. But still good.”

He has a cocky smirk on his face as he talks, and Newt once again fights the urge to just kiss the smirk right off of his face. His stupid, cute face.

“Just you wait, Tommy,” Newt argues. “my gift is going to blow you away.”

“Sure it is, Newt. Just not as well as mine.”

Newt just grins and stops the debate, because right then, in that moment, he has _literally no idea_ what to get Thomas.

***

He thinks about gift ideas for the next few days. He thinks about everything Thomas ever told him, all of his interests, his hobbies, his favorite things. He wishes he knew what kind of stuff Thomas owned so he would know what _not_ to get him.

He wanders around the mall, looking in every shop he can find, scanning the shelves for something, anything that could blow Thomas out of the water. But everything just seems subpar, too tacky, too impersonal. None of it seems right.

He’s lying on his bed one day, racking his brain for ideas, when he decides to call Alby.

Alby had been his good friend since his freshman year. He was two years older, and served as a helpful guide to Newt, teaching him about the school and how to hold himself amongst the others. He had always been a helpful friend to Newt, sticking by his side and listening whenever he had a problem. When he went away to college, it took a bit of a toll on Newt, since he didn’t have many other friends he could turn too. The two hadn’t talked that much since, but Alby always said that Newt could call him if he ever needed advice.

And right now, Newt needed advice more than ever.

So he dials him up, waits patiently for the ringing in his ear to stop, worried and anxious that Alby is busy or he’ll just ignore him. Luckily, he answers after three rings.

“Hey, Newt!” Alby greets, his voice laced with genuine happiness. “It’s good to hear from you. How you been?”

Alby didn’t know about “the incident”; he was away at school when it happened, and Newt promised, practically _begged_ his parents not to tell him. He just wanted Alby to treat him like he always had, not to be his doctor. He just wanted a friend, someone who wouldn’t talk to him like he was walking on eggshells, like most of his friends did.

“I’ve been alright. School’s pretty easy this year, senior year and all. Not much to do.”

“Oh, I remember. Trust me, you need to savor that while it lasts. College is a whole other ballgame.”

Alby was going into school for political science; he was a natural leader, and was really passionate about changing the lives of his community and everyday people. He was always a diligent worker, and it embarrassed Newt whenever he wasn’t working to his whole potential. So he avoided discussing the college subject, too.

“Right, yeah. Listen, I need some advice.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Well, Christmas is comin’ up, yeah? And I met this new friend recently, and he says he got me a gift. But I have no idea what to get him.”

“Ah, the classic dilemma. Alright. Tell me about him. What’s he like?”

“His name’s Thomas. He’s a junior. Used to be on track. Loves NCIS. Really likes reading mystery novels. He likes puzzles, word searches, mazes, things like that. He’s big into comics, now, got him into reading those. Um, he really loves Queen. Loves cats. And my dog.”

Alby laughs, deep and genuine, even through the phone. “Okay. Seems like kind of a nerd.”

Newt laughs, too. “Yeah. I guess he is.”

“Alright, so how did you guys meet?”

“Well, I took my dog to the park, and he started petting her. We talked for a bit, then he left, and then we were both at the park the next week. And the week after that, and the week after that...you get it.”

“So you were like, going on weekly dates with this kid?”

Newt chokes on air. “What? Wha-no, no, we were just hanging out. With the dog.”

“Riiiiight. So he just happened to come back to the park the next week because he really liked your dog. Yeah. That makes sense.”

“I mean, it’s true.”

“No it’s not. He wanted to see you. If he wanted to see a dog, he would go to the adoption center at the mall.”

“Well, my dog’s special.”

“Sure. Okay, so you’ve got your new nerdy boyfriend that you met at the park, and you need to get him a gift.”

“He’s not my boyfriend! Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Oh, so it’s not just me?”

Newt blushes, grateful Alby can’t see that through the phone.

“No. Whatever, that’s not the point. The point is, he said he got me a gift that was gonna blow my bloody socks off, so now I need to get him something great. And I don’t know what to buy.”

“Who said you had to _buy_ anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re an artist. And a damn good one. Why don’t you draw him something?”

Newt stays silent for a moment, contemplating the suggestion.

“Well, technically I already have.”

“You’ve given him a drawing? That’s sweet.”

“No, I haven’t _given_ him one. But I have drawn him. A lot, actually.”

“Really? You’ve been drawing your boyfriend? That’s adorable.”

“He’s not--whatever. I’ve drawn him a couple of times after we hung out, from memory. I haven’t shown them to him. I think he’ll find it creepy.”

“Newt, this dude came back to that big-ass park and stalked the whole thing just to find you. And then came back every week to do the same thing. He’s not gonna think your drawings are creepy.”

“You really don’t think so?”

“No, man. Just give them to him. He’ll love it. I would.”

Newt smiles, then remembers Alby can’t see him through the phone.

“Thanks, Alby. You always know what to do.”

“I know. Let me know how it goes with your boyfriend, alright? You gotta let me know if you kiss. First thing.”

“He’s not my-”

But Alby laughs and hangs up before Newt can finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just wanted to thank everyone again for all of the comments, hits, and kudos. It means so much! Also, here is another friendly reminder that this fic is around 80k, which means it is a VERY SLOW BURN. Veeeery slow. To put it in perspective, we're about 34 pages into an over 150 page work. So try not to get too impatient with them! They're just really stupid and oblivious and BLAH. But it's worth it in the end.


	10. Christmas With the Cranks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EXCHANGING GIFTS YAY

They decide to exchange gifts the day after Christmas, so they both have the holiday to spend with their families.

Newt’s filled with anxiety every day leading up to it; he’s practically in a constant state of worry over what Thomas will think of the drawings. Part of him thinks that Alby is right; he _did_ go back to the park on his own, after all, and just _happened to find_ where Newt was. And that park is pretty big; it’s no easy task.

But the other part of him believes in coincidence, and luck, and in people being really creeped out that you can draw them from memory.

He tries to come up with an alternative, but there doesn’t seem to be one. He can’t think of anything to buy him that would suffice. So he tries to relax and tell himself that everything will be fine and Thomas will think the drawings are amazing and nothing will go wrong.

But he doesn’t quite believe it.

Christmas goes as planned in the Edison household; lots of baking and cheesy Christmas movies and silly sweaters. His parents are as cheesy as they come, and embrace every stereotype and tradition of Christmas with open arms. There are about a dozen tins of cookies in their fridge, and Newt is certain he’s breathing in tinsel, there’s so much of it. Frosty and Rudolph and all of the classic Christmas films play on a loop in the living room, and the cluttered and overly-decorated Christmas tree shines a rainbow of lights through the room.

While Newt rolls his eyes at the Christmas sweaters and scoffs at some of the songs his parents make him sing, he can’t help but secretly enjoy it. There’s something about Christmas that is so utterly infectious, that just fills you with a kind of joy you can’t really explain. It feels nice to be this happy, even if he can tell his parents are trying extra-hard this year to make the holidays feel jolly for Newt. He can’t believe he would ever want to leave them behind, and feels shame and guilt for what he did gnawing away at him. But he pushes it down and focuses on the happy, the jolly. On Christmas.

It helps lessen the anxiety for a while; that is, until he goes to bed. Then he’s left alone, in the dark silence, with only his thoughts and ever-thudding heart to keep him company. He’s moved the drawings from the folder under his bed into a neat little boxed, wrapped and even topped with a bow. _To Thomas, From Newt._ In the dark, it’s shadow haunts him.

_Relax, Newt. It’s just a bloody box. It can’t hurt you._

But he can’t help but wonder about all the ways it could.

Eventually, he falls asleep (which is a miracle for him these days). The December sun wakes him up, and he sits up and stretches in bed, hair matted to the side of his head. He suddenly remembers that they never set a time. This makes the anxiety return like a punch to the gut. It’s like when you’re turning a Jack-In-the-Box; you know it’s going to pop out at you. You just don’t know when.

He tries to focus on his breathing, calm his nerves, stop his hands from shaking. Remind himself of what Alby said, what he’s been repeating to himself for days. Newt is surprised at his own reaction; he's usually so calm and collected. Suddenly this boy has him trembling. He hopes it isn't obvious.

He heads out of his bed and to the kitchen. There’s a note on the counter from his parents.

_Went to exchange gifts with some friends from work. Be back in a couple of hours!_

Newt smiles to himself, wondering what sort of tacky gifts his parents bought for them.

He’s just started to make himself breakfast when he hears a quick knock on the door, then the sound of it opening. Startled, he turns.

Thomas is standing at the door, wearing some sort of beanie with green and red stripes and tinsel on the top. He even has a red and green flannel on, and some red Converse. He stands proudly, a medium-sized box in one hand and a bag in the other, beaming a radiant smile. Newt’s heart leaps with surprise, then with happiness.

“Sorry,” Thomas apologizes, shrugging. “I couldn’t wait any longer.” He starts moving his gifts onto the coffee table, setting them down gently yet eagerly.

“You know, normally I’m the one who’s up early,” Newt observes, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “And yet I just woke up, and you’re already here.”

“Hey, I really love Christmas,” Thomas grins, settling himself down on the couch. Every muscle in his body looks filled with anticipation. “Come on. Sit.”

“Hold on, you weirdo. Let me get my gift.”

The anxiety seeps back in, a soft thud in his chest and shaking of his hands as he sets off toward his room and grabs the gift. He sets it on the coffee table and sits down next to Thomas.

“Sorry I’m not all dressed up for this...or dressed, for that matter,” Newt says, looking down at himself sheepishly. “Meanwhile, you look like you just came from the bloody North Pole.”

“I’m an elf! That’s my secret,” he whispers that last part, and it’s so stupidly adorable that Newt finds himself grinning like an idiot.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Newt claps his hands together. “Who’s going first?”

“You’re opening mine first,” Thomas insists. “No arguing. Here, open the bag first.”

“Okay, Tommy.”

He takes the polka-dotted bag onto his lap, rummages through the tissue paper until he hits something solid. It’s a small thing of fabric. He pulls it out, and laughs at what he sees. It’s a small animal sweater, with logos from comic books spread in a pattern throughout it.

“It’s for Lola,” Thomas explains, his face a mix of eager and anxious. “I figured, since it’s getting so cold, she should probably have something to keep her warm. I think it should fit. I can get a new one if it doesn’t.”

Newt laughs again, amazed that Thomas literally got a gift for his _dog._ He calls for Lola and claps, who runs in from his parents’ room, where she was presumably sleeping.

“Hey, girl,” Newt greets, petting her enthusiastically. “Look what Tommy got you!”

Lola barks happily, almost smiling as Thomas rubs her head.

“I hope you like it,” Thomas says to her. She just keeps wagging her tail.

Newt places Lola on his lap and adjusts the sweater; it’s fairly easy to get on, with pre-made holes for her legs. It fits almost perfectly, and looks adorable on her. She barks again as if stating her approval.

“That’s amazing,” Thomas laughs. “I’m so glad it fits.”

“She looks adorable,” Newt agrees, rubbing her back lovingly. He picks her up and walks over to the Christmas tree, holding her next to a Spider-Man ornament.

“Look! She matches!”

Thomas laughs, walking over to look. “That’s incredible.”

Newt puts Lola down, and she settles onto the couch, taking up two of the cushions. Newt smiles, not surprised at all.

“Okay, and this one is for you,” Thomas explains, getting the box and bringing it back to Newt, still next to the tree. “No more sweaters, I promise.”

“Please,” Newt jokes, taking the box. “I have enough from my mum.” He purposefully delays opening the box, shaking it lightly, examining the size.

“Oh, my god. Just open it!”

Newt laughs. “You’re an impatient one. Alright.”

He tears off the wrapping paper gently, finding a black box underneath.

“Keep going.”

“Was planning on it.”

He lifts the lid to the box, and the first thing he sees is a strange, gelatin-like ball. He pulls it out, confused.

“Um. Care to explain?”

“It’s like a stress ball!” Thomas elaborates, taking it from Newt. “It’s really flexible. Look, you just…” He starts playing with it in his hand, stretching it out and twisting it around his fingers and squeezing it back down to size.

“Ooooh. That makes sense.”

“Here, try it.” He hands it back to Newt, watches as he fiddles with it, stretching the odd material around his fingers, then back again. “See? You’re relaxed already. Now, just put this in your left hand while you draw, and all of the energy you put into tearing your lips apart will go into toying with this thing.”

Newt laughs, enjoying the odd contraption. “Alright, I will. Thanks.”

“That’s not everything,” Thomas interrupts, pointing at the box. “Look again.”

Newt furrows his brow in confusion and looks in again. At the bottom of the box, previously hidden beneath the stress ball, is a book.

A sketchbook.

Newt puts the stress ball back in the box as he pulls the sketchbook out, his eyebrows raising in surprise. It looks a lot like Lola’s sweater, with logos from comic books and words like _Pow!_ and _Zap!_ sprawled across the cover. It looks like it’s been hand-made rather than bought.

“I took a bunch of old comics I found at garage sales and collaged it,” Thomas explains, suddenly looking nervous as he adjusts his glasses and shifts slightly. “I noticed your sketchbook was a little worn-down. Thought you might like a fresh one.”

It was true; his sketchbook _was_ worn down, torn and frayed, practically out of pages. It had been sitting on Newt’s desk, mainly collecting dust. He never showed it to Thomas specifically. He must have just noticed.

“This is awesome,” Newt says, flipping through the pages quickly, running his hands along the cover. Thomas always said he wasn’t artistically gifted, so knowing that he went out of his way to try and do this warms Newt’s heart, sends a flutter from his fingers to his toes. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“I said you would love my gift,” Thomas smirks, his face illuminated by the rainbow lights on the tree. Newt observes him in detail, tries to keep the image intact in his mind, because he looks so happy and proud and beautiful, and Newt doesn’t want to forget it, not for a second.

“I do. Thank you,” Newt responds, smiling fondly at the sketchbook. _Oh, shit. It’s my turn._ “Speaking of drawings, here’s my gift.”

He sets the box down on the coffee table and trades it for his own box, handing it to Thomas through slightly shaky hands. Thomas rips open the package, not bothering to be careful with the paper. He’s like a little boy again, eyes all lit up with excitement.

“Careful, now,” Newt warns him before he can tear apart anything else. “Contents are fragile.” He hopes Thomas can’t hear the thunder claps of his heart.

Thomas nods, lifting the lid of the box with care, frozen for a moment when he spots the first drawing. It’s the very first one Newt drew from the day they met, with him petting Lola as she sits propped on his knees. Newt watches, eager with anticipation.

Thomas’ eyes move across the drawing, observing all the details, his face a mix of emotions that Newt can’t read. He slowly lifts it up and moves to the next one, this one of him playing Smash. Eventually he lifts all of the papers out and gently drops the box, moving from drawing to drawing with a mix of astonishment and awe.

“Newt…” he murmurs, flipping through the drawings, examining them as if he wants to memorize every detail. “did you...draw these?”

“Um, yeah,” Newt answers, every muscle in his body tense and anxious, his hands fidgeting. “I did.”

“Holy shit,” Thomas answers, meeting Newt’s gaze. “Newt, these are incredible.”

Newt’s chest swells with relief, and he breaks out into a smile. “You think?”

“No shit, I think. These are amazing. It looks just like me! Look.” He takes one of the drawings and holds it next to his face, mimicking the expression. “Same thing.”

Newt laughs, something he’s realized he’s done a lot more of since Thomas came around.

“I’m glad. I was worried you’d find them a bit...creepy.” He says the last part tentatively, afraid of putting the suggestion into Thomas’ head. Thomas just shakes his head, staring back down at the drawings with a look of gratitude and amazement.

“No way. These are beautiful. Not because they’re of me, but...you know what I mean.”

_Yes, they are beautiful because of you,_ Newt wants to say, but he bites his tongue.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like them.”

“Like them? I love them. I can’t believe you did all of these.” He exhales a breath of disbelief, shaking his head again. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you.”

“Hey, it was nothing,” Newt shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant even though every part of him is screaming.

Thomas pauses for a moment, studying Newt’s features, then moves forward and wraps him in a hug, arms squeezing his back, chin rested on his shoulder. It is so sudden and passionate that it startles Newt, for a moment, before he returns the embrace, practically melting into Thomas’ touch, almost shivering even though Thomas is impossibly warm. He wants to memorize the feeling of Thomas’ back under his hands, feel through the flannel to trace the pattern on his spine. They have never touched like this before; never with this much compassion, this much warmth. Never _on purpose._ Until now, it’s all been accidental. Accidentally knocking knees. Accidentally brushing their hands together in Lola’s fur. Accidentally resting on each other’s heads, practically falling asleep. Nothing has ever been initiated like this, and knowing that Thomas is the one who did makes Newt smile so wide he feels like it might crack, and his heart pound so fiercely he’s afraid Thomas might feel it on his chest.

They mutually pull away, Thomas quickly glancing Newt’s features one more time as he gives a shy smile. He looks back down at the drawings fondly.

“Thank you,” he says again, and the way he is looking at those drawings makes Newt think he might never draw anything else again.

***

Newt is sitting on his bed that night, holding the sketchbook in his lap, tracing his hand over the cover, feeling the bumps from each individual piece. He smiles to himself, a silly, idiotic smile, and he feels relieved and grateful again that Thomas loved the drawings. He feels deliriously happy that Thomas went through the trouble of collaging a sketchbook just for him. He smiles so hard it hurts.

He flips through the pages absentmindedly, hearing the quiet whoosh of them flip as they bump along his fingers. He admires the smoothness of the sides, the clean blankness of the pages; a world of possibility. A blank page. A new start. He imagines that’s what Thomas has given him; a new start, a chance to rebuild himself. Because in a way, he already died, or almost did. And now that he’s alive, and coming alive, he thinks he can begin again. To draw with light, and happiness. To feel alive, and free. Thomas has given him that.

He’s flipping through the pages again when he catches a dash of black. He freezes, then backtracks rapidly to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He sits up, flipping through the pages frantically. Then, he finds it. It’s a drawing, and it’s so silly and cute and...well, _bad_ , that it makes Newt laugh out loud.

They’re stick figures, of course. One has triangle-like hair on top of his head and square glasses. His straight arms hold a Spider-Man comic in the air in front of him. To the right of him is a stick figure with spirals and loops for hair, his outstretched arms holding an easel and a paintbrush. In between them sits what is probably Lola, but just looks like a lot of ovals and lines.

He’s signed his name in the corner, too, in actual cursive script. Underneath it, he writes, _a rare work from Thomas Isaacs. Do not attempt to replicate or sell to a museum. It is one of a kind._

It’s so absurd, so ridiculously silly that Newt gives a strange sort of cackle that strains his gut and shakes his rib cage. Thomas isn’t even there, and he’s making him laugh.

So he shoots him a quick text. _Thank for the masterpiece. I’ll treasure it forever._

His response is fast. _You’re welcome. And remember; that’s a Thomas Isaacs original._

Newt just laughs and laughs.


	11. New Year's At Minho's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho hosts a party for New Year's Eve. He invites Newt, who drags Thomas along to his first high school party. Warning: there is underage drinking in this chapter, so feel free to skip it if it makes you uncomfortable. All the important bits are touched on later on anyway.

It’s New Year's’ Eve. Newt’s parents are out with some friends for the countdown. They felt bad about leaving Newt behind, to which he argued that hanging out with a bunch of 40 year olds drinking champagne was not his idea of a fun evening.

“It is for us!” his mom joked. He just smiled and shook his head.

Naturally, Thomas had invited himself over. Newt was busy reading some more Hamlet on his bed when Thomas literally plopped on the bed beside him, jokingly stretching out his muscles as if the bed was his own. Newt playfully swatted the book at his head.

“Would you mind? I’m using this.”

“But it’s so comfortable.” He turns and snuggles his face into the corner of the pillow. Newt pushes him off, and he lands with a soft _thud_ on the carpet.

“Ow,” he mumbles into the floor.

The truth is, Newt wanted nothing more than for Thomas to stay on the bed with him. But he couldn’t exactly say that. Pushing him off the bed was the _expected_ result. What friends are _supposed_ to do. Friends wouldn’t have reached down and started kissing down his neck, which is _exactly_ what Newt wanted to do.

“Do you ever stay at your own house, Tommy?” Newt jokingly asks. “I swear, you’re here most hours of the week.”

There’s a strange silence afterwards that Newt wasn’t expecting. He waits, hesitant and suddenly regretful that he somehow said the wrong thing. But Thomas just laughs, though it sounds slightly tight.

“Hey, I can’t play Smash by myself all the time.”

Newt just laughs and throws the book at his head.

They’re in the middle of another round of Smash when Newt’s phone lights up. Expecting it to be from his parents, he picks it up. He’s surprised to find a message from his friend Minho.

Minho and Newt didn’t hang out very often, but they were always good friends. He was a little too outgoing and wild for Newt sometimes, but he was always fun to be around. Curious, he reads the text.

“Huh,” he says to himself.

“What is it?” Thomas asks.

“My friend Minho says he’s having a New Years’ party. Wants me to come.”

“Oh. I guess I’ll head out, then.”

“What? No, you’re not leaving,” Newt insists. “You’re gonna come with me.”

Thomas furrows his brow. “I am?”

“Yes, you are.”

“But I don’t even know Minho.”

Newt laughs at Thomas’ naivety. “That doesn’t matter. It’s a high school party. People just come.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Have you never been?”

“Not really. My friends are mainly from track and AP classes. Not exactly the party crowd.”

“Well, today you’re gonna go to your first party,” Newt smirks, dragging Thomas up from their position on the floor. “C’mon. It’s gonna be fun.”

Lola barks a friendly goodbye as they leave, Newt practically forcing Thomas through the door.

***

The door bell echoes through the house, fighting for dominance over the booming of the music. Various lights flicker and dance through the window, casting strange shadows and silhouettes on the ground. The house is only a few steps below a mansion; Minho’s parents are pretty loaded, and are also fairly laid back. Newt is convinced they aren’t even there tonight, which makes him wonder what’s really going on inside.

Thomas fidgets beside him, toying with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“You alright, Tommy?” Newt asks.

Thomas shrugs, avoiding his eyes. “I guess. I just don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know. Talk. Mingle. Drink. Dance, if you want.”

“Wait. Drink?”

“Yeah.”

“So there’s...like, beer here?”

Newt laughs, baffled at how stupidly cute this boy can be. “Most likely.”

“Oh,” Thomas murmurs, a small smile creeping on his face.

The door finally opens; Minho’s eyes light up when he sees them, and his arms outstretched in greeting.

“Newt! And friend! Welcome to Casa da Minho!” He already looks and sounds like he’s buzzed, which makes Newt smile.

“I’m Thomas,” Thomas greets.

“Thomas!” Minho exclaims, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good to meet you. Come on in, have a drink. It’s crazy in here.” He gently pushes Thomas inside, gestures for Newt to enter with his other hand. 

Newt steps inside, amazed for a moment at the sheer size of the place. People from their school, mostly seniors, crowd the house, most of them holding red plastic cups. Some are dancing to the rhythmic music, some are talking and laughing. A couple of people are making some very public displays of affection. Newt turns to Thomas, who takes it all in with wide eyes. 

“Over here,” Minho directs, leading them to a kitchen. He pulls two beers out of the fridge and hands one to each of them. “Bottoms up, gentlemen. We’re reigning in the new year in style!” He gives them both a wide grin. 

Thomas enthusiastically pops off the cap a chugs a sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Newt chuckles to himself.

“Atta boy,” Minho smirks, taking a sip of a beer he gets for himself. Minho looks at Newt expectantly, waiting for him to drink. Newt hesitates. He’s not supposed to combine alcohol with his antidepressant. The doctor said it could make his symptoms worse. Plus, he drove here. He can’t exactly bring Thomas home if he’s drunk. 

He shakes his head, puts the beer back in the fridge. 

“Thanks, but I’m the driver for this evening,” he says. 

“Aw, that sucks, man,” Minho groans, shaking Newt’s shoulder. “But I respect that.” 

Minho spots two friends calling him across the room, and waves to them. 

“Hey, I gotta go,” he says, moving towards his friends. “but I’ll see you guys around. Have fun! Dance! Make out! Whatever!” He heads over to his friends, high-fiving people on the way over.

Newt just laughs, trying to suppress a blush, hoping the _make out_ part wasn’t in reference to the two of them. Thomas just takes another sip of his beer, the tips of his ears red. 

*** 

They mingle for a little while, Thomas happily drinking his beer the whole time, downing one and going back for a second. It’s interesting and hilarious to watch Thomas while he’s tipsy. He gets more cocky and sarcastic the more drunk he gets. 

Newt introduces Thomas to some of his friends; Sonya, her girlfriend Harriet, a kid everyone calls Frypan, a serious-looking senior named Gally, and a freshman named Chuck who somehow managed to sneak his way into the party. Thomas fits in with the group easily, and they all joke together as if they had always been friends, Newt the only sober one in the group. 

They’ve shuffled over near the speakers, just the two of them, Thomas drinking his beer. Thomas turns to Newt. 

“Does that guy work out?” 

Newt raises an eyebrow. “Who?” 

Thomas points across the room to where Minho is. “Him.” 

“Minho? He weight lifts and does track.” 

“Track?” 

“He has an independent team outside of school. Says the kids here are too slow for him.” 

“Oh.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, look at him,” Thomas motions. Minho stands in a circle with some friends, looking jovial. As if on cue, he flexes his arm for a girl in the group. “See? He’s ripped.”

“Yeah. I guess.” 

“No, seriously, _look_ ,” Thomas insists, pointing again. “You ever see a kid his age with muscles like that? In this school?” 

“No, Tommy. Can’t say I have.” 

“Exactly. Man,” he sighs, looking at Minho with something like jealousy in his eyes. “I would kill for muscles like that. He must get all the ladies.” His words aren’t slurred, but they don’t sound normal, either. Newt can tell from the way he moves and speaks that the alcohol is getting to him. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Newt shrugs, confused at the turn of conversation. Thomas turns back to Newt, squinting slightly. 

“You ever had a girlfriend, Newt?” 

Newt contemplates lying, so as not to seem so ridiculously innocent, but decides better of it. “Nope.” 

“Not one?” 

“Not one.”

“Well, have any girls asked you out? Have you asked anyone out?” 

“No and no.” 

“Why not?”

“I haven’t wanted to, and neither have they,” Newt laughs. 

“But why not?!” Thomas asks, his voice slightly more intense. “I mean, look at you.” He gestures to Newt, waving his arm as if to mean his whole body. “You’re a catch. You’ve got like, that whole artsy-thing going on, you know? And chicks dig that. Cause then you can draw them and shit. And you’re all emotional, and talented. You know, you’ve got the beanies and the obscure t-shirts and the paint on your pants and stuff. This whole vibe.” 

Newt laughs awkwardly, not sure where Thomas is going with this. 

“No, no, listen-I mean this,” Thomas continues, in an odd state of drunken seriousness. “alright, any girl should wanna date you. You’re British! Everyone loves a British accent. You ever hear someone say they don’t like a British accent?" 

Newt laughs again. “No, I-” 

“No! You haven’t! Because they’re great. And everyone loves them. Okay, so you’ve got your art vibe and your accent. Then you’re also a geek, and that’s like in, now, everyone loves being a nerd.” He slips over his words slightly as he speaks. He points at Newt. “But then we’ve got how you look. You’ve got brown eyes-okay, not everyone loves those but yours are pretty nice. And you’ve got nice hair. Nice and blonde, people like blonde hair.” 

Newt’s blushing from head to toe, glad it’s hard to tell in the strange lighting of the room. 

“So you’ve got your eyes, your hair…” Thomas moves slightly closer, moving his eyes across Newt’s features, inspecting them closely. Newt can smell a mix of the alcohol on his breath and the cologne under his hoodie. “You’ve got a little birthmark over here. Your mouth could work, you know, some people might think that’s…” His eyes fix on Newt’s lips, and he swallows. “...think that’s nice.” 

Thomas is still staring at his lips, in some sort of strange, drunk fixation. Newt’s head swims and his heart pounds like a jackhammer; he’s feeling drunk even though he hasn’t taken a sip, his mind dizzy from this strange sort of closeness, from the words trailing off of Thomas’ tongue.

Thomas finally breaks away from his gaze, takes a step back. His face is flushed red, presumably from the beer. 

“The point is, you’re a catch. Any girl would be lucky to have you. Just you wait. One girl’s gonna come along and steal your heart away.” 

And there’s such a silly kind of gleam in his eyes, a caring smile on his face, and Newt can only think _it’s too late, it’s already gone, I haven’t seen my heart in a couple of months, actually, someone stole it in a park._

So he smiles. And he bites his tongue. Again.

“Thanks, Tommy.” 

“Hey, everyone!” The countdown is starting!” Minho yells, gesturing with his arms for everyone to move to the balcony. 

“Come on!” Thomas exclaims, dragging Newt by his arm. They get a spot right on the balcony ledge, Newt watching as Gally and Frypan set up the fireworks down below. The TV from the room behind them blares, and the music is lowered enough so they can hear it. The crowd starts chanting. 

“55! 54! 53! 52!” 

Newt doesn’t chant, just watches Thomas stare down the balcony in drunk excitement, still in a strange bewilderment of his first high school party. 

“Oh, shit,” he suddenly says. 

“What is it?” Newt asks.

“I don’t have anyone to kiss!” Thomas groans. “Aren’t you supposed to kiss someone when the fireworks go off?” 

“You don’t have to. It’s not required.” 

“Yeah, but I should, right? People kiss at parties.”

“I guess.” 

Thomas squints and glances around the room, as if he’s looking for someone to kiss. 

“40! 39! 38! 37!” 

Minho heads up to them, claps them both on the shoulder. “Get ready, guys. This fireworks show is gonna be in-sane.” 

“Looking forward to it,” Newt replies. 

“Yo, I mean it. You better find someone and just like, make out with them. It’ll be romantic as hell. Or something, I don’t know. Later!” He heads off and disappears back through the crowd. 

“See!” Thomas exclaims, laying his head in his hands.

“Oh, don’t listen to him,” Newt attempts to comfort him.

“But he knows what he’s doing,” Thomas argues. “This is a _party._ I gotta kiss someone.”

“20! 19! 18! 17!”

Newt sighs, shaking his head. “Look, Thomas, if you wanna kiss someone, just bloody do it. It’s New Year’s Eve. If they get mad, just say you got caught up in the moment. But don’t just stand there thinking if you’re gonna do it or not.” 

Thomas doesn’t say anything to that, just stares at Newt’s face, his features contemplative. The crowd’s cheering gets louder. 

“10! 9! 8!” 

Newt is waiting for Thomas to react, to head off and find some girl to kiss, grab the first one he can see and just get ready to lay it on her. But he just keeps staring at Newt, eyes moving in a slow, drunken pattern from his eyes to his lips to his neck to his body and down and up again, his brow furrowed in confusion and thought. 

“5! 4! 3!”

Newt’s suddenly feeling anxious for reasons he can’t quite place, can’t explain. Thomas is staring at him with a look so intense, cutting through the glassiness of his eyes that Newt feels frozen to the spot, rooted to the ground. 

“2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” 

The crowd erupts into cheers; Newt hears the fireworks go off below, sees the reflection of the lights on the side of Thomas’ face. They’re close, so close that there’s a dangerous sort of electricity threatening to spark between them, and Newt doesn’t move, doesn’t look at the fireworks, doesn’t budge an inch. They lock eyes for a moment; Thomas’ chest rises and falls, his gaze moving to Newt’s mouth one more time before he seems to jut back to reality, and he turns to look at the fireworks, cheering with the crowd. 

Newt’s heart falls, just slightly, for reasons he can’t quite explain. He’s not sure what just happened between the two of them, exactly, but it left an odd impression on him, and clearly on Thomas, too. His cheering for the fireworks seems slightly forced. Newt tries to shrug it off and join in on the yelling as he stares up at the colorful lights in the sky. 

They’re 5 minutes into the fireworks show (Minho went all out on this one) when Thomas’ gaze falls to across the balcony. His eyebrows raise in surprise, then furrow in anger. 

“Damn it,” he grumbles, slurring slightly. “I should have known.” 

“Should have known what?” Newt asks, attempting to follow Thomas’ line of sight but finding nothing but a rowdy crowd. 

“Teresa. She’s here. Right there.” He points, and Newt finally finds her, laughing with Sonya and Harriet. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well if you don’t want to talk to her, just leave her be. I doubt she’s gonna bother ya.” 

“No, no,” Thomas shakes his head. “I think I need to. I _need_ to talk to her.” 

_Oh, boy,_ Newt thinks. _This can’t end well._

“Are you sure? Is now really the best time?” 

“Right now it seems like the best idea I’ve had in a loooong time. I gotta do it, Newt. I’m going for it. Wish me luck.” He claps Newt on the shoulder twice before clumsily pushing his way through the crowd. 

Newt isn’t sure what to do; he doesn’t know if Thomas wanted him to wait there until he came back. Besides, the fireworks were still going off, making it hard to hear Thomas even though he was right next to him. 

He squints through the swarm of bodies, watching Thomas make his way to Teresa. She offers him a big smile when she sees him, even holds out her arms for a hug. Thomas waves his arm around a bit, and her smile falls, her eyebrows narrowing. She starts looking angry, talking as if she’s irritated. Sonya and Harriet stand behind her awkwardly. 

Suddenly, Newt feels an arm fall around his shoulder. He turns to see Minho with a lopsided grin. 

“Newt! Why aren’t you watching the fireworks?”

Newt shakes his head, startled out of his daze. “Me? Oh, no, I was. Really.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re staring at your new boyfriend over there.” 

“Wha-Thomas? No, Minho, he’s not my boyfriend.” 

Minho furrows his eyebrows. “He’s not? Oh. I thought he was your date.” 

“No! He’s just a friend.” _Why do people keep saying this?_

“Huh. Well alright then.” He shrugs and looks back at Thomas and Teresa, their faces moving from angry to somber. “What’s up with them?” 

Newt sighs. “They used to date.” 

Minho looks as if he’s realized something. “Oh, shit. _That’s_ the junior that Teresa dated?”

“That’s him.” 

“Oh, man. That’s awkward. She probably thought he had already moved on and started dating you.” 

“No, Minho, why wou-” 

Newt can’t finish his sentence before Minho is being pulled away by some friends, waving to Newt over his shoulder as he goes. Newt just sighs and forces himself to turn away from Thomas and Teresa, watching the fireworks. He lets the bright colors and the startling booms become his focus, trying to push thoughts and worries about what they’re talking about out of his head. 

By the time the grand finale rolls around, Newt turns one more time to see if he’s coming back. And he can’t find either of them. 

So he stands on the balcony ledge, and he watches the grand finale alone. Even though he’s in the mess of the crowd, he isn’t really with them. He’s there, but not. Back to the in-between. Just like before.

***

He’s waiting outside Minho’s door, standing on the front steps, his hands in his jacket pocket, shivering against the new January chill. He hasn’t been able to find Thomas or Teresa, and it’s nearly 1 AM. He’d like to get home before his parents kill him, and he’s Thomas’ ride.

It’s not exactly the best start to the new year. He was enjoying the idea that Thomas had given him a fresh start not just with the sketchbook, but with the new year, too. That it could be a year of happiness, of learning to branch out and connect with other people more. Of hanging out with people instead of staying in bed. Of actually talking to people happily when they pet your dog. Stupid things like that. Stupid things that make you a better person. A healthier person. Yet here he is, standing out in the cold, his cheeks flushed from the wind, waiting for a drunk junior that he can drive home. 

He shakes his head as he checks his phone for the umpteenth time, waiting for some sort of message from Thomas. Still, nothing. He sighs, and bounces back and forth on his heels, watching the empty road, listening to the now muffled music behind him. 

He’s starting to tempt the idea of leaving Thomas at the house to fend for himself when the door bursts open behind him, and Thomas steps out. He jumps slightly when he sees Newt, then gives a breath of relief. 

“Oh, thank god,” he says. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Tommy, I texted you like, five times telling you I was outside.” 

“You did?” Thomas fumbles for his phone in his pocket, pulls it out and squints at the screen. “Oh. You did. Sorry.” 

“S’alright. Look, can we go now? I’m bloody exhausted.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Thomas nods, the alcohol wearing off slightly but still clearly in his system. “Let’s go.” 

“Alright.” Newt heads back to the car, hopping in and turning on the ignition while Thomas buckles in to his right. 

“Bye, party,” Thomas waves to the house, then tilts his head back and closes his eyes. “It was fun.” 

“So much fun,” Newt murmurs sarcastically. He backs out and rolls down the back roads on the way to where Thomas said he lived. It’s a neighborhood not too far from his own. 

Thomas still has his head rolled back, looking out the window in a tired sort of daze. 

“You’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow,” Newt mentions. Even though Thomas claimed in an earlier conversation that he’s had beer before, Newt doubts he’s ever had it in this quantity. 

“Yeah, I know,” Thomas groans. “I’ll just sleep all day.” 

“What are you gonna tell your mum?” 

Thomas is silent for a moment, staring at the floor of the car, eyebrows hunched. “Um. I don’t know. I just told her I’d be at your house.” 

“You didn’t tell her you were going to a party?” 

“No. Did you tell your parents?” 

Newt sighs, feeling guilty. “No.”

“Yeah. Exactly. I’ll just say I’m tired from staying up, or something. Whatever. She won’t care.” 

“Alright. Make sure you take some aspirin. And drink some water. And rest.” 

Thomas laughs, a softer kind of laugh that means his previous, enthusiastic drunkenness has faded into sleepiness.

“Sure, mom.” 

“Hey, if you wanna go around feeling like someone dropped a rock on your head all day, be my guest.” 

Thomas just laughs quietly again, staring off at the road whizzing by him. 

They stop at a red light. Newt waits patiently, even though there’s no one on the roads. People party late into the night in Minho’s neighborhood. 

Newt drums on the steering wheel, not bothering to fill the awkward silence between them, not bothering to ask about Teresa. He’s too tired and too nervous about the answer to question him. He still decides to cheat a glance, and he sees that Thomas is just looking down at his lap, a strangely thoughtful look on his face. He looks up at Newt quickly, and their eyes lock for a second before Newt turns back to the road, waiting for the light to change. 

There’s another beat of silence before Thomas says “I’m sorry I kind of just left you there. At the party.” 

Newt shrugs, pretending to be aloof. “It’s whatever. You had stuff to do.”

“I know. But I just kind of feel like a dick. You brought me here, and then I made you wait outside for me. And it’s fucking freezing.” 

Newt just shrugs again. “It’s fine,” he lies. 

Thomas nods, and Newt isn’t quite sure if he believed him or not. The light turns green, and Newt heads down some more back roads, dimly lit this time of night, squinting through the smoke from the fireworks. 

“So I talked to Teresa,” Thomas adds a few minutes later. 

“I saw.”

“Yeah.”

“How’d that go?” 

“It went…” Thomas trails off, looking for the right word. “well. I, uh. I think.” 

“You were talking for quite a while. That’s usually a good sign, right?” 

Thomas shrugs. “I guess. I mean, I was angry at first. I kind of yelled at her for acting all wishy-washy on me. About how I didn’t know what she wanted from me.”

“Okay.” 

“And she got all defensive, saying that all she did was be nice to me, and I shouldn’t be mad at her for that.” 

“Makes sense.” 

“So we keep going, and she decides we should talk in private. So she drags me to one of the empty bedrooms, and we sit, and we talk.” 

Newt is suddenly anxious at the idea of them being alone in a bedroom together. He’s also anxious at whatever Thomas is about to tell him. He knows he’s jealous, insanely jealous, of what Teresa had with Thomas, and isn’t particularly fond of whenever he talks about her. But he knows that he has to be Thomas’ friend, has to support him. So he stays silent, and he waits for Thomas to continue. 

“We just talked about us. About when we were together. The good times we had. Some of the bad.” He smiles to himself, at some sort of memory, most likely. “We talked about why we broke up, which was really stupid on both ends. We just talked and talked.” 

“Okay. So where’d that get you?” 

“Well, I think we’re going to be friends again. Text again, like we used to. Maybe hang out. Get things back to the way they were before we started dating, you know?” 

Other than some slurring of words, its hard to tell that Thomas is still drunk. He’s entered the odd, somber mode of drunkenness. Newt just nods, trying not to let his unnecessary anxiety and jealousy overcome him, and grips the steering wheel slightly tighter. 

“But um, there is this one thing,” Thomas adds, blushing slightly and sounding sheepish. 

“What? What happened?” 

“Well, right before she left, she, um…” 

“She what?”

“She kissed me. Said it was for ‘the good ol’ days.’” 

Newt feels a quick flash of anger and jealousy. _  
_

“Well alright then,” Newt manages to get out. 

“Yeah.”

“So what did you do?” Newt asks tentatively. 

“Nothing, really. I was too surprised to even react. She was gone before I really took it all in.”

Newt feels slightly relieved at that. “Alright.”

Thomas pauses for a moment, as if he’s questioning what to say. 

“It was kind of nice, though. Reminded me of when we dated. She was always a good kisser.” 

Newt tries his hardest to suppress a groan, really not wanting to talk about Teresa or kissing anymore. 

“Look, it’s best that you don’t think about that for now, alright? You guys just decided you would try and be friends again. Best to slow it down, yeah?” 

Thomas nods. “Yeah. Probably.”  He stays silent after that, to the relief of Newt.

They don’t talk again until they reach Thomas’ house; the lights inside are off. It’s a one-story home, with some lights leading up the front door. 

“Are you gonna be able to get in?” Newt asks. 

“Yeah, I’ve got my keys,” Thomas answers as he unbuckles. 

“Alright.”

Thomas has his hand on the door handle, ready to open it, when he pauses. He turns to Newt, looks at him for a second before he decides to speak. 

“Thank you, Newt.” 

Newt raises an eyebrow. “For what?” 

“I don’t know. For bringing me to my first real party. For driving me home. For dealing with me when I’m drunk.”

Newt laughs at the last part. “Trust me, Tommy, there are _far_ worse drunks out there than you.” 

Thomas smiles at that, but it fades into seriousness quickly. 

“I mean it, though. You waited outside for me even when you didn’t know where I was. And you listened, you know? And you cared. No one ever really...no one really cares for me like that. It just, um...it means a lot. So thank you.” 

Newt’s chest flutters slightly, and every ounce of anger and jealousy that he just had floods out of him the instant he sees Thomas’ face, sheepish and still slightly drunk. He doubts Thomas ever said anything like that to Teresa. 

“S’alright, Thomas. Any time.” 

Thomas nods, looking down for a moment. He takes Newt’s hand that’s on the gear shift, squeezes it once, then leaves the car without a word.


	12. Thomas' Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is hungover, so Newt goes to his house to drop off some aspirin. While there, Thomas ends up confessing something about his family history. Way more emotional than the other chapters have been, so get ready. Trigger warning for mentions of mental illness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Once again, wanted to thank everyone for being so supportive (and frustrated) with this fic! It means a lot to me, even when you guys are mad that they haven't kissed yet! Haha. So for this chapter I just wanted to again clarify that I am in no ways an expert on mental illness, so if anything is inaccurate or offensive, just let me know!

Surprisingly, Newt’s parents don’t yell at him when he gets back. Mainly because, well, they weren’t back themselves yet. Like with Christmas, his parents seemed to go above and beyond for holidays, New Year’s included. So after the quiet and slightly lonely drive back home, he collapsed into his bed without even changing his clothes.

He wakes up at 12 o’clock the next morning, Lola licking his face enthusiastically. Apparently one of her jobs as a therapy dog is to make sure he doesn’t sleep past noon. He pets her lovingly and gets up.

He checks his phone and finds some messages from Thomas.

_Newt. I feel like shit. Everything hurts. My brain is throbbing. I can barely even look at my phone screen. Send help._ [sent 10:02 AM]

_Neeeeewt. Wake up. I’m so dizzy like holy shit I can’t even stand up_ [sent 10:13 AM]

_Is it possible for your brain to crack your skull? No, right?_ [sent 11:25 AM]

_I’m so thirsty but I can’t drink anything without wanting to puke help_ [sent 11:44 AM]

_NEWT WE DONT HAVE ANY ASPIRIN IM GONNA DIE_ [sent 11:52 AM]

_maybe if i see a picture of lola i’ll feel better_ [sent 11:57 AM]

_NEWT_ [sent 11:59 AM]

Newt smiles a little, but he mostly feels bad for Thomas. Now he _definitely_ knows Thomas has never drank before. He shoots back a quick reply as he grabs some brunch.

N: _A picture of Lola isn’t gonna make your migraine go away._

The reply is swift.

T: _YOU DONT KNOW THAT_

Newt laughs and looks down at Lola, sitting happily by his feet at the breakfast table. He scoops her up onto his lap and takes a quick photo of her, Newt’s eyes popping up over her head. He sends it.

N: _Worth a shot, I suppose._

T: _Awwwww_

N: _Yes, thank you, I know I’m adorable._

T: _I was talking to Lola you dumby_

N: _Lola doesn’t have a cell phone, Tommy._

T: _Fine. You’re adorable. Happy?_

N: _I’m flattered._

T: _Shut up. I’m still in pain, anyway. Any hangover tips?_

N: _I already told you. Drink water, take aspirin, and rest._

T: _WE DONT HAVE ANY ASPIRIN I TOLD YOU THIS_

N: _Do you want me to bring you some?_

Newt waits for a couple of minutes for a reply; he assumes Thomas went to go throw up or something. He finishes his cereal and sits down with Hamlet, intent on finishing it even though he already knows the entire plot. He’s in the middle of Hamlet and Horatio’s conversation before the sword fight when his phone finally lights up again.

T: _Um. Sure? I mean if you want to stop by real quick. Like for a minute._

N: _On my way._

He heads to his room and quickly gets dressed. He opens his door again to see his mom coming out of her bedroom. She smiles when she sees him.

“Hi, Newty! Did you have a nice New Year? Watch the ball, and all that?”

He smiles, shrugs a bit, not wanting to reveal that he brought his underage friend to a party and let him drink.

“I suppose. Just watched it on TV. Went to bed. Nothing too crazy.”

“Oh.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I assumed you and Tommy would hang out for the night, seeing how you two have been gettin’ on.”

Newt hides back a blush. “No, no, we didn’t. He just did his own thing, you know. Whatever.”

His mom nods. “Right. So where you off to?”

Newt sighs inwardly. “I’m, uh, going to Tommy’s house.”

“See? I figured you two’d see each other soon enough. Well, go on, have fun. Remember, _be safe._ ”

“Mum, what could we do that isn’t safe?”

“Oh, you know.”

Newt just raises an eyebrow.

His mom lowers to a whisper. “ _You know_.”

“No, mum, I really don’t.”

“Oh, whatever. Just be safe!”

Newt laughs. “Alright, mum.”

She nods, heads into the bathroom. He sneaks some aspirin into his pocket before he takes one of the family cars and heads out.

***

He pulls into the driveway where he was only a few hours ago. In the daylight he sees that the house is a sort of pale yellow color, with brown shingles on the roof. He has to admit, it’s not one of the prettiest houses he’s ever seen. But he knows to keep that to himself.

He turns the ignition off and heads to the front door, ringing the doorbell. An unpleasant kind of buzz echoes through the house. He hears Thomas say a muffled “ow” through the door.

Thomas opens the door, rubbing his forehead and squinting his eyes. He’s in the same clothes as the night before. His eyes look almost bloodshot and his hair is matted in parts and ruffled in others, like he rolled right out of bed. He isn’t even wearing his glasses, which is the first time Newt has seen him without them. It’s a little odd.

“You should have knocked,” he complained, his voice sounding edgy.

“Sorry. Wasn’t thinkin’.”

Thomas sighed, his features softening. “It’s fine. Come in.”

He steps to the side and sweeps his arm slightly. Newt heads in, and the door closes behind him.

Newt is taken aback for a second. The house is...kind of messy. Not in the hoarders’ kind of way, but it’s disorganized. There’s obvious dust on the picture frames, and there are random items of clothing and paper scattered here and there on the floor. He can see the kitchen from where he is, and the dishes are in a pile in the sink, some take out left on the dining table. He tries not to let his reaction show on his face. He fails.

“Yeah, sorry about the mess,” Thomas apologizes, looking at the floor and shuffling his feet. “I, uh, haven’t had time to clean up. And I can barely stand today, so, that’s not happening.”

“It’s fine,” Newt assures him. “S’not that bad, really.”

“No, it is,” Thomas argues. “But whatever. Do you have the aspirin? I’m dying over here.”

Newt laughs. “Yeah. Here.” He hands Thomas a bag with a handful of pills inside. “Spread them out throughout the day, yeah? They’re not name-brand or anything, so they’re not as strong. But don’t take them all at once, alright? Trust me.”

Thomas nods. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” He heads to the kitchen, pulls out a half-finished bottle of soda from the fridge. He pops two pills in his mouth and takes a swig.

“Tommy, were you not listenin’ to a word I just said?”

“Sorry. Had to double-dose. But I promise, I won’t take another for a few hours.”

“Good. Don’t feel like bringin’ you to the bloody hospital for an overdose.”

Thomas says nothing to that, just puts the bottle back in the fridge and the bag of pills in his pocket. They stand there for a moment, Newt looking around at the kitchen, Thomas fidgeting slightly. Finally, he decides to speak.

“So, yeah, thanks for the aspirin. I guess you can head out now, you know, don’t feel like dealing with a hungover kid, am I right?”

Newt smirks slightly and furrows his brow. “You kickin’ me out?”

“What? Psh. No, no. Just, you know. You don’t have to stay. If you don’t want. You know, since this is a pigsty and everything. It’s fine! Go! I’ll see you soon.”

Newt laughs. “It’s not that bad, Tommy.”

“Fine, whatever, but-”

Thomas is interrupted by the sound of something bumping into a wall. He looks behind Newt’s shoulder, and his eyes widen slightly. Newt turns to see a woman, presumably Thomas’ mother, standing at the entrance to the kitchen, rubbing her leg. She’s wearing a faded pink bathrobe, and her hair is frizzy. She has giant bags under her eyes, and wrinkles cross her forehead. She looks pale and exhausted.

She stops when she sees Newt. She glances at Thomas for a moment, then looks back. She seems confused.

“Um. Hello.” Newt clears his throat, suddenly feeling awkward and intrusive. “Hi. I’m uh, I’m Newt. One of Tom-Thomas’ friends.” He steps forward and gives out his hand. She looks at it for a moment before shaking it. Her hands are frail and veiny.

“I’m Sarah. Thomas’ mother. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Newt turns back at Thomas for a moment; he seems rooted to the spot, frozen, with a look of slight terror on his face. Newt tries to give him a look, like, _dude what is wrong with you_ , but it doesn’t seem to come across. He turns back to Sarah.

Sarah looks around at the clothes and paper on the floor and shakes her head slightly. “Pardon the mess. We’re, uh, not used to visitors.”

“S’fine. I understand.”

Sarah nods, seemingly grateful at Newt’s nonchalance. She has a friendly air about her, but Newt can sense that there’s something not quite right about her. He just can’t say what.

“Well,” Sarah continues, “I’m going to head to the mart to get some milk and things. I’ll be back. It was nice to meet you, Newt. I’ll be back soon, Thomas.”

Thomas manages a small nod, watching as she heads out the door, closing it behind her.

Newt tries to make a joke of the awkward situation. “Wish I had the guts to go to the store in my pajamas,” he says with a small laugh.

But Thomas doesn’t laugh, he just keeps standing there, his face flushed red and his eyes still struck with some kind of fear.

“Tommy?” Newt asks, taking a step closer. “Are you alright?”

Thomas meets Newt’s eyes, starts shaking his head. “No. No, I’m, uh. I’m not alright.” He walks to the living room briskly, Newt trailing behind him.

“What’s the matter?” Newt asks again. Thomas turns around, frustration building in him.

“Look, Newt, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see this. The house, the mess. My freaking mother. I never wanted you to see any of it.”

Newt furrows his brow. “Why not?”

Thomas taps his foot, shaking his head. “Because it’s embarrassing! And stupid! And I didn’t-I didn’t want you to think-or know, or-”

“Tommy! What the hell are you talking about?”

Thomas stops, looking at Newt, a million emotions flashing through his eyes. Newt’s feeling so nervous, so scared, about what has Thomas so embarrassed and angry.

Thomas doesn’t answer. Instead, he walks over to a picture frame. In the photo is a baby (assumingly him, since he’s an only child), a younger, healthier-looking version of his mother, and then a man on the other side of her.

“Do you see him?” Thomas asks, pointing to the man. “Right there?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s my dad,” Thomas explains, his voice bitter and slightly breaking. “He, um. He left when I was 13.”

“You mean, he divorced?”

Thomas looks over at Newt, his expression solemn. He swallows.

“Not exactly.” He looks down, fiddles with his hands. “Um, my mom tells me that he just had to go to some doctors. To get help with something.”

He stays silent for a minute, tapping his leg frustratedly.

“Before he left, he started acting weird. Started doing projects in the middle of the night, weird, tinker-y things. He would be in a trance when he did them. We couldn’t snap him out of it. He would talk to himself, sometimes. Mutter angrily while he made dinner, which stopped being edible after a while. My mom tried to figure out what was wrong with him, but she wouldn’t tell him anything.

“Then he, uh, he went to the doctor one day. On one of his better days. My mom went with him. I stayed home. And he, um. He never came back.”

Newt stays silent, watching Thomas’ crack, slowly, the composure he had in him slowly fading. His heart breaks.

“My mom did, though. She said he needed some time. To fix things. But I did some research on my own. Turns out he’s in the mental hospital. For schizophrenia.”

“Oh,” Newt murmurs, eyes widening slightly. He wasn’t expecting that, couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to lose your father to schizophrenia at 13.

“Yeah. He’s still there. I haven’t seen him since. My mom’s gone, a couple of times.” He looks down again, avoiding Newt’s gaze completely. “And every time...every time she goes. It just gets worse when she comes back. She doesn’t laugh anymore. She barely smiles. Barely gets out of bed. That’s why the house is so messy...she just does things. During the day. And she doesn’t clean up. So, I do. Normally. I cook, I clean. I go get groceries. That kind of thing. Not all the time, but...” Thomas’ lip wobbles slightly, and his shoulders shake as he shudders out a breath. “...but I haven’t been able to take it lately. I just...this place. Seeing her, so broken. I just needed to get away from it.”

He finally looks up, matches Newt’s gaze. His eyes are filled with water, and he takes another shaky breath before he continues.

“That’s why I’m always at your house. To get away from all of this. To just...be with someone, and feel better, you know? Just feel happy. You’re like an escape for me.”

Newt’s chest swells and breaks, soars and collapses.

“And I’m sorry, I’m sorry you had to see this. I didn’t want you to know about this, I didn’t…”

And then Thomas breaks. One sob escapes, and then the tears are just pooling down. Newt pulls him in before he can even think about it, wraps his arms around Thomas and holds him close, wanting to soak up all of his tears and sadness and pain like a sponge, just take it all away from him so he can be the warm, smiling boy he’s fallen so hard for. Thomas is squeezing Newt, clutching his hands in his shirt, his face burrowed in Newt’s shoulder. Sobs rack his body, and the whole time he keeps going “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Newt just holds him, rubbing his back slightly, saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

Thomas sniffs, once, and takes some more shaky breaths. “I’m just sick of this, I hate seeing her like this, I didn’t want you to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Newt just pulls him in closer, hating seeing Thomas suffer like this, hating that Thomas feels embarrassed.

“Tommy, it’s fine. I’m not judging you. I’m not judging your mum.”

“But you have-you have this nice family, and everyone’s there, and the house is clean, and-”

“Tommy. We’ve all got our own stuff to deal with. Yours is just a little more visible, alright? We’re all fucked up somehow. We’ve all got things to deal with. You don’t need to feel ashamed.”

“I know. I know. I just didn’t want you to see it.”

“Well, I did. And now I know. And I’m not gonna look at you any differently. And you don’t have to hide it from me anymore. You can talk about it. Whenever you want, you know I’m here.”

Thomas takes a big, shaky breath, and leans into Newt, relaxing slightly. He rests his forehead on Newt’s shoulder. “Thank you, Newt. You’re honestly the nicest guy I’ve ever met.”

“S’alright.”

“No, I mean it.” Thomas pulls out of the hug, but only enough so they’re facing eye to eye, their arms still slightly wrapped around each other. “You are. And you’re...you’re like, my closest friend. I haven’t told anyone this before.”

“No one?”

“No one.”

“Well, you know you can talk to me, okay?” Newt assures, hands moving to Thomas’ shoulders. “About whatever, whenever, yeah? You know I’m here for you.”

Thomas nods, relief and gratefulness in his eyes. “I know. And uh, same here, you know.”

Newt considers telling Thomas then, about what he did. About how he tried to kill himself, failed miserably, got sent to the hospital. He knows Thomas would listen. And after this, he knows Thomas wouldn’t judge.

But another part of him, a strange, stubborn part of him, insists on keeping it to himself for now. Makes him think that _Thomas already had to deal with one loony, why would he want another?_

So he just nods, and avoids the subject. “Of course. I know. Now, you need to take a bloody nap. Go sleep, and I’ll talk with you later, yeah?”

“Alright.”

“Good that.”

As Newt is heading out the door, Thomas calls his name. He turns around.

“Yeah?”

“Just, you know, thanks. Again. For everything. Honestly, some days I think I’ll go crazy without you.” He laughs a little at that, but his tone is still serious.

Newt’s chest swells. “It’s no problem, Tommy. Really.”


	13. Newt Catches a Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter, just more cute moments between them and junk.

They text and hang out pretty frequently for the last week of their winter break. Thomas stays for dinner at the house a couple of times, to which Newt’s parents, thankfully, avoid any suggestive comments. Of course, there are a lot of smiles and eyebrow raises directed at Newt secretly, but he always avoids those.

One night, Thomas asks the question he asked Newt at the park back in the fall.

“So, why did you guys choose the name Newt?” He asks over a plate of pork and rice. “I mean, it’s not a very common name.”

Newt remembers what he said when Thomas asked that: _You can ask them yourself if you ever meet the bastards._ It seems like a lifetime ago that they were just at the park, sitting on that bench. It’s amazing to him how close they’ve become in the span of a couple of months. Thomas has already told Newt that he’s his closest friend, and it’s the same for Newt. He didn’t realize this kind of fast connection with a person was possible.

He realizes he’s been daydreaming when his dad’s voice calls his attention.

“What was that?” Newt asked, slightly startled.

“I was jokin’ about how you always hate when we call you Newty, now that you’re 18 and all.”

Newt kicks himself. He let his parents bring up something embarrassing while he had nostalgia.

“Oh. Yeah. Right."

“I think it’s cute!” his mom defends. “Don’t you think it’s cute, Thomas?” Newt noticed over the last week that she’s stopped calling him Tommy. He’s not sure why.

Thomas laughs. “I think it’s just adorable, Mrs. Edison. What do you think, Newty?” He turns and smiles at Newt, scrunching his nose and crinkling his eyes. Newt’s flushed with embarrassment and an urge to punch him, but it’s quickly subsided by the adorable look on Thomas’ face.

“Oh, shut up,” Newt scowled, angrily taking a bite of his pork chop.

The day before the students head back for school, his parents call for a family meeting.

“What’s the matter?” Newt asks.

“Well…” his mother starts, slightly hesitant. “we haven’t been wanting to push you this year, since it’s your last year. And we don’t want to make you do anything you aren’t ready for.”

“Okay…” Newt answers, the word coming out more like a question.

“But, the deadline is coming up, and we were wondering if you had made any decisions about college,” his father continues.

_College. Bloody hell._ Newt hadn’t put any thought into college at all. Most of his thoughts were about Lola, pills, drawing, Thomas, comic books, pills again, back to Thomas, comic books, and so on. Senior year had been so easy, he barely even realized he would be graduating soon. He had no plans for the fall, he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. Until semi recently, Newt hadn’t even wanted a life. So he gives his parents the honest answer.

“Um, no. I haven’t.” His parents nod, trying to seem indifferent at the answer.

“Alright, that’s fine,” his mom assures him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Just remember, we support you no matter what. If you need help, you can ask us. The school will be able to help as well, I’m sure. We just want you to be happy, alright?”

Newt smiles. “I know. Thank you.”

“No problem, Newty,” his father adds. “You know, you could always ask Thomas for advice. He seems to have been a good friend to you, helped you out, all that. I’m sure he’ll be able to help.”

Newt considers it for a moment. He’s never brought up the subject of college with Thomas, mainly because he’s a junior. But now that he thinks about it, he realizes Thomas probably already has 5 schools chosen by now that he wants to apply to. Newt never even took the SAT. It’d be embarrassing for Newt to ask him about college when he should be the one with everything figured out. But he doesn’t want his dad to know that, so he lies.

“Sure, dad. I will. Thanks.”

His dad smiles, claps him on the shoulder, and heads into the kitchen with his mom. Newt smiles at him, but wonders how much more he can hide from Thomas before it all comes back to bite him in the ass.

***

A week after their return from winter break, Newt catches a cold. He wakes up one morning feeling clogged, congested, and otherwise really shitty, so he decides to take a break and stay home for the day.

_Besides,_ he thinks, _it’s not like I’ll miss much._

He settles on the living room couch in his pajamas, wrapped in a blanket with _The Avengers_ on and Lola in his lap. His parents headed out to work, so it’s just him, his dog, and a bad case of the sniffles.

He texts Thomas in between, and sometimes during, his classes.

N: _I miss the summer. You never get sick in the summer._

T: _I do. Allergies, man._

N: _Not the point. The point is, I can’t stop sneezing and I think Lola might be catching it, too. Is that possible?_

T: _I mean. Maybe. I don’t know._

N: _Of course you don’t._

T: _Hey, I’ll have you know I am in AP Trig right now so watch your mouth buddy_

N: _Then why are you still texting? Hmm?_

T: _Because you’re way more interesting than Trig._

T: _Plus I don’t understand any of this._

N: _Figures._

It goes like that for the rest of the day, going through countless boxes of tissues as he watches every superhero movie on DVD, Lola sitting by his side the whole time.

It’s around mid-afternoon when he hears a knock on the door. He turns, confused.

He’s about to get up and answer when the door opens; Thomas comes through, holding a box of tissues in one hand and and a set of DVDs in the other. Newt is surprised, but also suddenly self-conscious. He can’t imagine how he must look right now. Ruffled, unkempt hair, glassy eyes, a red, puffy nose. All in his pajamas under a blanket. He must look like a slob. Or a little kid. Or worse.

He sits up a little, shifting the blanket so it doesn’t seem like he was wrapped in it like a burrito.

“Tommy? What are you doing here? I’m sick.”

Thomas laughs, looking at Newt’s...condition.

“I’m here to see you, silly. Brought you these.” He puts the box of tissues on the table. “I also brought some NCIS. If there’s ever anything to watch while you’re sick, it’s this. Let's pop it in!”

“Well, yeah, but...I’m sick.”

“So? I’m sure I’ll get sick at some point, anyway. It is winter, after all.” He switches out _Thor_ for NCIS, picks Lola up and takes her spot on the couch, placing her on his lap. He pets her head affectionately, giggling when she licks his hand. All the while, Newt just stares at him, a perplexed expression on his face.

Thomas finally looks up at him. “What?”

“I just...I wasn’t expecting you. How did you even get here?”

“I walked. I walk every time I come here. It’s good cardio.”

Newt is amazed at how nonchalant Thomas is about all this.

“And you’re not worried about getting sick? At all?”

Thomas shrugs. “I don’t really care. Besides, you’ve been holed up here all day. I mean, look at you, all sick and adorable with your puffy nose and pajamas. Someone needs to spruce you up!”

Newt tries to ignore the fact that Thomas just called him _adorable_. Because it’s in the dumb, small moments like these, where he comes over with tissues and DVDs and tells him he’s adorable, that make Newt believe that maybe, possibly, Thomas could think of Newt the way Newt thinks of him. That maybe Thomas also gets the urge to just grab his face and kiss him like crazy, that maybe he also wants to hold his hand, to walk with him under the streetlights, to trace patterns down his arm, to hold him at night.

But then, almost every time, Thomas says something that makes Newt throw that notion far, far, away. Such as right now.

“Teresa always said the cure for the common cold was some crime dramas. Lots of alliteration. But it works!”

Newt gives a weak smile, deflating slightly. “Well, if you don’t mind sneezing like crazy, I guess we can marathon some NCIS.”

“Great! I started with season 3, that’s where it really gets good…”

***

Thomas stays with him for a couple of hours after that, talking through every episode and pointing out every piece of evidence that links the killer to the crime, actively spoiling every episode for Newt. But he doesn’t mind. He had felt pretty crappy and bored all day, so having Thomas next to him chatting his ear off about crime dramas was pure medicine for Newt.

Of course, Newt would want this on a normal day, not just when he was sick, but that was besides the point.

As expected, Thomas got sick pretty quickly after that. He texted Newt a selfie with a box of tissues in front of his face to let him know.

T: _I understand your pain_

N: _I tried to warn you Tommy_

T: _Eh. Worth it._

Newt smiles at the phone screen. It was worth it to spend time with him even if it meant getting sick. Thomas was so cute it almost hurt some days.

His mom walks by and notices him smiling at his phone.

“What’s got you all bright and shining?” she asks curiously.

Newt waves her off. “It’s nothing.”

But he still can’t stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just saw the scorch trials and im really emotional oh my god im just. im so


	14. Meeting In School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally see each other at school. All goes well until Thomas and Teresa start talking more...maybe about getting back together. It's a long one. Have fun with it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm uploading two chapters today because the last chapter seemed really short but I couldn't fit it in anywhere else. So you're welcome.

It’s not until February that he finally sees Thomas in school.

He had looked for him every day in the halls. During fire drills, in the cafeteria, in the bathroom. He never saw Thomas. Never. He still was confused as to how Thomas ever recognized him from school.

Newt’s using his locker for the first time this year; he’s putting away some ceramic pieces he didn’t feel like carrying the rest of the day. It’s in the math section of the school, which he hasn’t had to be in since last year. It looks a little foreign to him, and he smiles to himself, happily not missing any of it.

Right when he opens his locker, he spots Thomas, and his heart skips a beat. He stopped having that kind of reaction when first seeing Thomas a while ago, as the two progressively became more comfortable and casual in each other’s presence, but Newt was not used to seeing him in this environment. He assumed it would never come up. So it comes as a surprise when he spots Thomas talking to a group of his friends a few ways down the hall, standing in a circle, joking and laughing.

Newt’s about to close his locker and go say hello, then stops himself. He reminds himself that Thomas has his own group of friends, separate from Newt. Maybe he wanted to keep it that way. Keep their school life and their friendship separate. _Besides, it would be rude to interrupt. They’re clearly having a good time._ So he decides to turn back to his locker and starts setting his pieces down.

He’s just closing his locker when he hears Thomas call his name. “Newt!”

He turns to see Thomas waving happily. Newt smiles back and waves, expecting that to be it, just a friendly “hello” and acknowledgment. Instead, Thomas gives a quick nod to his group of friends and briskly heads over to Newt, smiling all the while. Newt leans his shoulder against the locker, attempting to seem casual.

“Hey there, Tommy.”

“Hey! It’s about time I finally see you around here.”

“I know. It’s tough, you being a junior and all.”

Thomas scoffs. “Please. Don’t remind me. I have Trig next and I would much rather not go.”

Newt sighs with pity. “I know, Tommy. Junior year’s a bugger. But you’ll get through it. You’re a smart kid.”

“Hey, just because I’m one year younger than you, it doesn’t make me a kid,” Thomas argues, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, whatever. I’m trying to compliment you here.”

“Well, I’m still not a kid.”

Newt gives an eye roll of his own. “Fine. You’re a smart young man. That make you feel better?”

Thomas gives an approving nod. “Much better. So, where are you off to next?”

“AP Drawing.”

“Ah. Gonna do more portraits of me?” He sounds slightly hopeful. Newt smiles. He actually stopped doing the portraits once he gave them to Thomas; he’s become such a constant presence, he can’t decide what he wants to draw anymore. Too many memories, too many moments. So, he’s been drawing Lola instead. She’s always around. And if not, he knows what she looks like.

“No. Been working on some sketches of Lola lately.”

Thomas slumps slightly. “Oh. I guess I was too boring for you. I’m no longer your muse…”

Newt laughs and playfully slings his arm across Thomas’ shoulder. “You didn’t bore me, Tommy. Don’t worry, you can still be my ‘muse’.”

Thomas’ face lights up. “Great! I love being a muse.”

Newt laughs and removes his arm from Thomas’ shoulder, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. The warning bell chimes; one minute left before class starts.

“Oh, shoot,” Thomas says. “You better get going.”

“You, too. Work hard in Trig, alright? Don’t doze off like usual. Or look at your phone.”

Thomas shrugs it off. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

“I’m serious! Focus.”

Thomas waves his hand behind his shoulder as he walks down the hall. “Yeah, yeah.”

Newt just laughs to himself and heads to class.

The next day, right at the end of AP Drawing, he feels someone looming over his shoulder, staring down at his work. It’s another drawing of Lola, only this time from a first-person perspective, with a hand reaching out to pet her. There’s only about 3 other people in the class, so it’s more like a study hall than anything else. Newt just keeps working.

The person waits a minute before speaking. “That’s really good,” Thomas says. “Is that supposed to be my hand?”

“No, it’s supposed to be mine, because she’s MY dog,” Newt answers, turning in his stool to face Thomas, who is standing slightly too close. He can smell a faint whiff of cologne.

“Damn. First you stop drawing me altogether, and now I’m cut out of Lola’s life, too?” He puts a hand over his chest in mock pain. “I’m hurt.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “Tommy, what are you even doing here? Class hasn’t ended yet.”

Thomas shrugs. “I finished my work. Asked if I could go to the bathroom, took my stuff, came here to see you.”

“I’m flattered. But really, you shouldn’t be ditching your classes. Junior year is important. Trust me.”

“I’m not ‘ditching’,” Thomas argues, using air quotes. “I’m just leaving early. There’s a difference.”

Newt shrugs. “Your choice, Tommy. But don’t come cryin’ to me if you don’t get accepted to any colleges cause you failed all of your finals.”

“Please,” Thomas scoffs. “Like I won’t get accepted. I’ve already got a couple schools lined up that I know I’ll get into.”

“Right. Sure you will.”

Thomas pauses, furrows his eyebrows. “Say, you never told me what college you were going to. You’ve chosen, right?”

Newt falters, panicking. _I should never have brought this up. Damn it._

He decides to work around the question. “I, uh, still haven’t decided. Still choosing.”  _I haven’t even looked._

“Well, what are your options? Maybe I could help you choose.”

“Um…” While Newt struggles to come up with names of colleges, his art teacher, Mrs. Janson, walks up to Thomas.

“Why, you look familiar,” she says to him.

Thomas raises an eyebrow. “I do?”

“Of course. You’re the one Newt here draws all the time. I’m sure you’ve seen some of his drawings, they’re _lovely._ ”

 _Shoot._ Newt forgot he had handed some drawings of Thomas in for grades.

Thomas just smiles. “Yeah, I have. He actually gave me some, they’re great.”

Newt just continues to sit, flustered by the compliments.

“I know. He really is one of the best artists in the school,” Mrs. Janson continues. Newt’s not sure why she’s talking about him like this to Thomas. It’s a little out of character for her.

“Yeah, he is. He’s amazing.” Thomas turns to Newt and smiles, compassion in his eyes. Newt gives a weak smile back, his nerves racing all through his body. Before Mrs. Janson can continue, the bell rings, and she moves back to her desk. Newt starts packing up his things.

“Time to head home. Thank goodness.”

Thomas gives a jealous sigh. “Lucky. I forgot you could leave early.”

Newt laughs. “Work hard in your junior year and you could leave early, too. Which means don’t ditch Trig.”

“I didn’t ditch!” Thomas defends, arms outspread. He groans. “Look, one day, I’m just gonna leave early with you. Just one day out of the whole year.”

“No way, Tommy. You have work to do. Colleges to get into.” _I don’t want you to end up like me._

“Oh, come on, Newt. Just one day. We can go to the movies, the arcade, get some burgers. Just one day of me not having to deal with Chem and History and everything else I have to deal with now.”

“I said no, Tommy! This year is too important for you. I’m not gonna get you in trouble.”

“Come on, Newt. Please? It’ll be really fun. Just you and me, a day on the town. What do you say? Come on! Pretty please?”

Thomas gives him such a pleading, puppy-dog-eyes look that Newt can’t even imagine saying no. _Damn it, Tommy, you just had to be cute and let me have a bloody crush on you. Can’t say no to a thing you say._

He sighs to himself in defeat. “Fine. Just one day. But you better let me know when. And make sure you get all the work you need, and-”

Thomas throws a fist in the air. “Yes! This is gonna be great. I’m gonna start planning a whole day for us, it’s gonna be awesome.”

With that, Thomas hurries out the door. Newt just shakes his head as he leaves.

“Hey, isn’t that the dude you brought to Minho’s New Year’s party?”

Newt turns. Sonya is sitting the next table over. She’s not technically in the class, but she comes to work sometimes. Newt didn’t even notice her come in.

“Yeah. Yeah, um-” He clears his throat. “He is.”

She nods. “Huh. So is he your boyfriend, or something?”

Newt almost laughs. _How many people are gonna ask me this?_

“No, he’s not. We’re just mates.”

“Are you sure? Because I know you’re gay, and he seemed pretty into you-”

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘you know I’m gay’?”

Sonya gives a quick laugh. “Please. I’ve known you since kindergarten, remember? I can tell. Especially when he’s around. It’s like you’re the walking equivalent of the heart eyes emoji. He is, too. It’s honestly gross some days.”

Newt blushes, embarrassed and a little angry. _Way to out me in front of the whole class. Even if there’s only 4 people in here._

“Oh, like you’re to judge. You and Harriet are always all over each other.”

Sonya smiles. “Exactly. That’s how I know.”

***

Thomas doesn’t bring up their day of ditching (well, for _him_ , anyway) after that. Newt is surprised; Thomas seemed so excited by the idea of breaking the rules, he assumed he would be going a mile a minute about it, like he usually did with something he was passionate about. But instead, he never brought it up. Newt just shrugged it off. _Better that he never even consider it. He’s got to stay focused this year._

They make a habit of finding each other in the hallways. Newt heads back to his locker every day, and they meet up and chat there. They develop a sort of pattern over the next week, and walk with each other to classes more frequently. Add that with Thomas coming to the house multiple times a week, and their pretty consistent texting habits, and the two were almost always in communication. Newt didn’t mind it one bit, and Thomas didn’t seem to, either. In fact, he encouraged it.

“Let me see your schedule,” he had asked.

Newt raised his eyebrow. “What for? We already know we don’t have any classes together.”

“Just let me see it.”

Newt dug the crumpled paper out of his bag. “Here.”

Thomas looked it over, ran some calculations in his head, then handed it back. “Alright. I’ve got it memorized.”

“And why would you need to do that?”

“You’ll see.”

And with that, he just smiled and headed to his Trig room.

Newt didn’t realize what he had meant until the next day when Thomas showed up in the hall near his 1st period class. Newt just laughed.

“Ah, I get it. You’re gonna stalk me now.”

Thomas scoffed. “Please. I just get sick of my track and AP friends every now and then. They’re not _nearly_ as cool as you.”

“Thomas, I dressed as Link for Halloween this year, I’m a huge comic nerd, and I spend most of my time drawing my dog. I am not ‘cool’.”

“Yes, you are. Link is totally cool.”

“Not the point.”

“Whatever. Hey, one day you need to let me see that Link costume.”

Newt laughed as they walked. “And why is that?”

Thomas shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

Newt stayed silent to that and continued down the hall.

After that, the pattern went kind of the same way, in an unspoken agreement similar to when they first met at the park. They didn’t meet between every class, but they saw each other pretty frequently.

One day, as they’re heading down the hall, a junior walks up to them and says hi to Thomas.

“Hey, Thomas!” The kid says, giving Thomas a fist bump. “Where you been, man? Haven’t seen you the last week.”

“Hey, Aris,” Thomas greets him. “I’ve been here. Just floating around.”

“Oh. Well, I hadn’t really seen you in the halls or anything. Thought you went on vacation, or something.”

Thomas shakes his head. “Nope. Still here.”

Newt just stands at the edge awkwardly, not wanting to intrude in this conversation. Aris takes note of this silence and looks at Newt. His brow furrows, as if he recognizes him. Newt’s never seen the kid in his life.

“Hey, are you that kid that drew those pictures of Thomas?” Aris asks.

Newt’s heart stops for a moment. “Wh-what?”

Thomas’ cheeks get a tinge of pink. He scratches his neck as he speaks.

“Yeah, I, um, might have shown some of my friends the drawings you did. I thought they were really cool.”

Newt’s chest flutters. Thomas was showing off the drawings he did. The look on his face was so sheepish and embarrassed that Newt had to fight the urge to squeeze Thomas’ hand in reassurance. Their fingers were mere inches apart; he could have done it. But he just clenches his fist at his side, holding back the temptation.

“So it was you?” Aris asks again.

Newt clears his throat. “Um, yeah. I did those.”

Aris nods. “So you’re Newt, then.”

“Yeah. That’s me.”

Aris smiles. “Sweet. I’m Aris. It’s cool to finally meet you. Thomas talks about you all the time.”

Newt looks over at Thomas and smirks. Thomas’ entire face is red, trailing from his cheeks even to his ears.

“Aww, you’ve been talking about me?” Newt teases. Secretly, he’s trying to wrap the idea in his head that Thomas would ever talk about him to outside friends.

Thomas tries to shrug it off nonchalantly. “I mean, sometimes. I don’t talk about you all the time. Just sometimes.”

Aris laughs. “Please. Every day, it’s ‘oh, me and Newt were watching this movie’ or ‘I kicked Newt’s ass is Smash yesterday’ or ‘you know, Newt’s dog is so cute I just might get my own’, or-”

“Alright, he gets it,” Thomas interrupts, irritation in his voice.

“Aww, don’t worry, Tommy,” Newt says, bumping Thomas’ shoulder with his. “I’m flattered. Honest.”

Thomas rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Whatever.” They walk for a few more feet in silence when Thomas spots someone down the hall. Newt follows his gaze to see Teresa standing at her locker, putting some books away. His eyes light up when he sees her.

Newt sighs inwardly.

“Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Thomas says, barely finishing his sentence before he’s picking up his speed. Aris turns around and heads to his class.

Newt watches as Thomas strolls up to her locker. She flashes a bright, beautiful smile when she sees him, and they start chatting effortlessly. Newt sighs. _There’s always gotta be something. Right when I think Thomas might be interested, something comes up. Bloody torture, this is._

He still has to pass them to get to his next class. He tries to keep his eyes straight ahead, not even turning his head, keeping his focus and stride. He’s just about to pass them when, from the corner of his eye, he sees Teresa turn to him.

“Hey, Newt,” she calls to him. Newt stops, alarmed. He turns to Teresa and gives what is, probably, a weak attempt at a smile.

“Hey there,” he responds. He gives a little wave, then hurries off down the hall before she can say anything else.

Newt doesn’t hate Teresa. He doesn’t. In all technicality, she hasn’t done anything wrong. But there is a feeling of unpleasantness that Newt gets whenever he’s around her. He knows what the feeling is. It’s jealousy. Newt tries to avoid it as much as possible. You can’t be jealous of someone taking something that isn’t yours, was never yours to begin with. So he tries to push it aside and see Teresa as a friend, like he did before. But there’s still a part of him, an annoying part of him, that holds a feeling of jealousy that he doesn’t think he can shake for a long while.

***

Newt doesn’t see Thomas for the rest of the day. Newt looks around for him at their usual meeting points, but he never shows up. _Maybe he decided to do his ditching day early. And without me._ He tries to shrug it off and continue his day, focusing on his drawings.

A couple hours after getting home, Newt realizes he hasn’t gotten any texts from Thomas, either. Now he starts to worry. _Maybe something happened to him._ But he shakes that off, too. _He’s probably just busy. No need to get so protective. He can handle himself._

Then Newt doesn’t get a text for the rest of the day. Nothing. Not some picture of his cat or a complaint about homework or a theory about Batman. Nothing. Not a single thing.

Newt realizes now how constantly him and Thomas have been talking since they met in September. The absence of him is startling, even if for a few hours. Newt reminds himself to give Thomas some space from now on. _We’re starting to get too attached. I don’t want to seem clingy._

So the next afternoon, a Saturday, Newt is startled when Thomas swings the door to his room open. He sits up from his bed, putting down the book he was reading.

“Hey, Tommy. Glad to see you’re back from the land of the dead.”

Thomas laughs as he walks leisurely around the room.

“I’m not dead, Newt. In fact, I feel great!” He spreads his arms out and gives an annoyingly cute grin. Newt raises an eyebrow, turns so his feet are hanging off the side.

“What’s got you so perky?” Newt asks, taking a sip of his coffee from the nightstand.

Thomas sighs happily, takes a deep breath. “I think me and Teresa might be getting back together.”

Newt coughs on his sip of coffee, struggling for a moment to take it down. He puts the cup down and clears his throat.

“Oh. Alright.” He tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice. As much as Thomas talked about maybe becoming friends with Teresa again, he never thought they would ever start _dating_ again. It’s like all of Newt’s hope is fading at once.

He clearly fails at trying to sound indifferent, because Thomas gets a confused look on his face.

“What, is something wrong?”

Newt shrugs, falters. “Well, I mean…”

“What? Come on. You can say it. Be honest with me.”

Newt stands up, puts his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really think it’s a good idea.”

Thomas raises an eyebrow. “Well, why not? Do you not like her, or something?”

“No, it’s not her. Teresa’s a nice girl, we’re friends.”

“Alright, then what is it?”

“Well, I mean...you two just broke up not too long ago. Clearly you did it for a reason. Don’t you think it’s silly to go back to someone it didn’t work out with?”

Thomas shrugs. “We’re different now. Besides, what we broke up over was stupid. We can try again.”

“Okay, but what about school? She’ll be going off to college in the fall. You won’t be able to see her.”

“We could do long distance. Besides, she’s only going an hour from here. Nothing we can’t handle.”

Newt sighs frustratedly, his patience for Thomas’ stubbornness wearing thin.

“Look, Tommy, here’s what I’m gettin’ at. High school relationships don’t last, alright? They just don’t.”

Thomas shakes his head. “Some do.”

“Yeah, some. But how many, really? And how many of those people are truly happy? Not a lot, I bet.”

Thomas doesn’t answer, just stands there. Newt continues.

“The truth is, teenagers don’t fall in love. They don’t. They might think they do, and they might really feel it, but they aren’t in love. Not really. They just have the idea of love. It comes, and it sparks, and then it fades. It fades away. No one really falls in love until they're older. High school is just practice. Nothing serious.”

Thomas shakes his head slightly, a sense of disappointment filling his eyes.

“So you’re saying that if I really like someone, and I mean really like them, that I shouldn’t even try? That it’s not even worth it?”

“What, you mean like with Teresa?”

“Well, I mean. Not with Teresa. With anyone.”

Newt shrugs slightly. “I mean, you could date them for a bit, I guess, just for fun. Just to have a nice time. But if you really think about it, it doesn’t matter. Any of it. It all just fades away once graduation happens. Once you head off to college, you leave your old friends behind. You start a new life.”

Thomas looks at the ground, taking in what Newt said. He’s silent for a few moments before he speaks up.

“I don’t know. I don’t think you’re right. I think you can fall in love as a teenager. And if you really want to, I think you can make it work.” He has a sense of conviction and confidence in his eyes that Newt has ever seen before, and it takes him back for a moment.

“It’s your choice, Tommy. But if you just want to ignore what I said and try it anyway, that’s fine by me. I don’t care either way.”

Thomas takes a small step forward. “You don’t care what I do?” There’s a slight sort of anger and hurt in his voice.

Newt sighs. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I just mean, it’s not my decision to make. You want to try and date Teresa again? Your choice. But just don’t be surprised if you end up gettin’ your heart broken.”

Thomas just looks at him for a moment, a kind of contemplating look on his face. There’s a tension in the room that Newt wishes he could cut with a knife, chop it all to pieces so they can go back to their usual kind of conversations.

“Whatever,” Thomas finally answers. “I’m gonna head out. She wanted to meet up at the mall, anyway.”

Newt shrugs. “Alright.”

Thomas turns and heads for the door, stops in the middle of leaving, thinks for a moment. He turns back to Newt.

“You know, you should really have an open mind about falling in love at this age. Someone could be waiting for you right now. And you could be pushing them away. You just don’t even know it.”

Before Newt can respond, Thomas closes the door behind him and leaves the house.

Newt sits back down, an unsettling feeling all around. In a strange way, this was their first argument. It feels weird. He doesn’t like the idea of fighting with Thomas.

So he decides from now on, whenever Thomas brings up Teresa, he’s just going to go along with it. Smile and nod and pretend that it’s the best idea in the world, pretend like his heart isn’t secretly hurting inside. He tries to tell himself to take his own advice, tell himself that he isn’t really _in love_ with Thomas. That this is just a temporary crush that will go away, that none of it will matter in the end.

But then he remembers what Thomas said before he left. About keeping an open mind. About someone that could be waiting for him. _What could that even mean?_

Newt dismisses the thought and opens his book again. _Ridiculous. Who could be waiting for me?_

***

Newt doesn’t hear from Thomas again until later that night, right before he’s about to go back to bed. He’s lying in bed, just after turning his light off, when his phone lights up on the nightstand. He unlocks it to find a text.

T: _Not that you care, but me and Teresa aren’t officially getting together yet. Figured I’d let you know I’m not getting my heart broken yet._

Newt sighs, simultaneously relieved and frustrated. He types back.

N: _I do care. Look, if you think that you can make it work, then make it work. Maybe I’m wrong._

T: _Well. We’ll see. It’s whatever._

N: _Did you two not get on, or something?_

T: _No, it was fine. She just seemed a little reluctant. I don’t know why._

N: _I’m sure she’ll come around if you give her some time. Be patient._

T: _I’ll try. Thanks._

N: _Any time, lovebug. Now go to bed._

Newt flips his phone over and closes his eyes. He’s not sure what’s worse; if Thomas and Teresa had started dating immediately, or the waiting he has to suffer for them to finally do it.


	15. Your Body Is A Canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt does some drawing. Completely platonic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Just wanted to say thanks again for the support. Even if I don't reply, I'm reading all of your comments and giggling at your frustrations. Don't worry, I'm making it up to you by uploading basically all the time. So you're welcome!

Things find their way back to normal over the next week. Newt learns to smile and nod whenever Thomas talks about Teresa, which is way more than he used to. It feels like any time they start to talk about something remotely interesting, he brings the topic back to her.

“So, Tommy, what do you say we head back to my house and play Smash later?” Newt said one day in the hall.

“Oh, definitely. I’ve been practicing with Zelda lately, so prepare to get your ass handed to you.”

“Please. You know I’m the best with Link. I’ll even put on his hat to harness his powers. With the ears and everything.”

“Yeah. Oh, wait, I just remembered Teresa said something about going to the movies. So I guess I can’t.”

“Oh, darn. It’s a shame. I was really looking forward to wearing it.”

“Guess you’ll have to leave it,” Thomas responded, his voice slightly cold. Newt just ignored it, assuming Thomas was in a bad mood.

But it was things like that. Newt would mention some inside joke or a memory between them and suddenly it was back to Teresa. It wasn’t constant, but it was enough to make Newt feel like he was being pushed to the side.

Still, Thomas was his friend, so he just smiled and joked whenever Thomas would bring her up, and try not to show it on his face the disappointment he felt when Thomas said he held Teresa’s hand in the car. Newt had never held Thomas’ hand. He’d really like to someday.

Overall, they were back to their regular scheme of things. Thomas frequented the house slightly less, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Newt’s parents, however, took notice.

“I’ve noticed Thomas doesn’t come around as much,” his mom commented one day after dinner as Newt washed the dishes.

Newt just shrugged as he scrubbed a plate. “I guess.”

“It’s a shame, really. He’s good for you. I can see how happy you are around him. He’s made you warmer.”

Newt just blushed and scrubbed the plate more aggressively.

“I mean it, Newty. He’s done wonders for you. And you smile like the sun whenever he’s around. Your Tommy is really something."

Newt almost breaks the plate in half. _Your Tommy._ That explains why his mom had stopped calling him by the nickname. She thought it belonged to him.

“He’s not _my_ anything,” Newt mumbled.

“Whatever he is, dear, he’s good for you. Remember that.”

Newt just stayed silent and scrubbed the dishes.

***

It’s mid-March. School has been flying by faster than Newt can track. He’s starting to realize how soon the end of the school year will be. How he might never see some of his friends again. Minho, Gally, Frypan, Sonya. Even Teresa. They’ll all be going their separate ways. And all the while, Newt doesn’t even know if he’s going in any way. He tries not to think about it too much, but the inevitability of it all gnaws at him constantly, a pit of worry and anxiety in his stomach.

Thomas and Teresa still aren’t officially dating. They still do things that couples do; they hold hands, go to the diner, see a movie at the drive-in. Thomas said they’ve even kissed a couple times, which makes Newt’s jaw clench and his chest ache.

“That’s great, Tommy,” is all he says. All he can think about is how much he’d like to kiss Thomas, just once, just to feel his lips move against his own. Just one time.

But he pushes those thoughts away as best he can. No point in wanting something you can’t have.

One day, Newt is sitting on his bed, drawing a portrait of a hand. He’s been focusing on first-person perspectives the last month, so he’s been drawing hands in various poses. He loves noticing the curves of the fingers, the point of the knuckle, the veins running along into the arm, the callouses in the palm.

Thomas walks in, unannounced and uninvited, as usual, and immediately sits on the bed next to Newt. No explanation whatsoever. He just sits, picks up a book from Newt’s table, and starts reading it.

Newt laughs without looking up from his drawing. “Please, come in.”

“Shh. I’m reading.”

Newt just smiles and continues his drawing. They sit for a few minutes in silence, Thomas reading whatever book he picked up. Newt looks up at one point to see that Thomas hasn’t made much progress.

He points to the book. “Slow reader?”

Thomas shakes his head. “What? No. I’m a fast reader. I could get through the last Harry Potter in an hour.”

“Then why have you only gotten 4 pages in?”

Thomas looks down at the book, furrows an eyebrow in confusion. “Huh. Could have sworn I was further than that.”

Newt takes in the situation. He makes a realization and smirks.

“Tommy.”

“Yeah?”

“You were watching me draw again.”

Thomas scoffs. “Pfft. What? No. No, I wasn’t. I don’t do that. That’s weird.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“It was one time! And I was bored, and I didn’t want to do my homework. Don’t worry, I wasn’t watching you. That would be weird.” He focuses his attention back to his book, overexaggerates his reading face.

Newt just laughs. “Sure, Tommy.” He goes back to drawing.

Another few minutes pass. Newt is starting to get the feeling of deja-vu when he sees the book in Thomas’ hands has been abandoned to his lap, his hands dangling lazily over the pages. He doesn’t have to turn to know that Thomas’ is still watching him draw.

He takes a moment to study Thomas’ hands while he can’t tell he’s looking. They’re delicate hands. Hands that look like they don’t belong to his relatively built figure. They’re gentle hands. His fingers lay over the words, one of them tracing a line along the page every now and then, feeling the texture of the paper. Newt is mesmerized. He wants nothing more than to take Thomas’ hand in his, run his fingers through the crevices in his, feel the grooves between each one. He wants to feel the softness of Thomas’ skin against the roughness of his own. Suddenly, it’s all he can think about.

So he does something. Something impulsive. Something he normally wouldn’t do.

He puts the notebook next to him, takes Thomas’ hand, and starts drawing on it.

Thomas gives a soft laugh, watching Newt with quiet amusement. “What are you doing?”

“Drawing.”

He holds one hand under Thomas’, keeping it steady, adjusting the fingers as need be. His other hand works gently, taking the pen in soft strokes along his fingers, down the curves in between. He holds his hand gently, afraid of somehow hurting him. But just by doing this, by having one hand guiding his, it’s almost like he’s holding his hand. He tries to memorize the feeling of his skin as he moves along with his pen, adjusting his hand and turning it. Thomas doesn’t say anything, just watches with a strange look on his face.

Newt moves his hand down to Thomas’ wrist and gently bends his hand back, working on the palm. One thumb grazes the side of his hand, and he lets it stay there, using the motion of him drawing as the excuse for when he accidentally rubs his thumb along the side. Once. Twice. Three times. It’s just because of the drawing. '

Newt is in a kind of hypnotic state. The focus of him drawing, the feeling of holding Thomas’ hand and the comfortable silence have brought a softness on the room, like he’s seeing everything with delicate, faded edges. For the first time in a while, he feels his anxiety leaving the pit in his stomach. He relaxes.

Thomas finally speaks up. “I have two colleges picked out.” Even his voice is soft as he says it.

Newt smiles and continues drawing. “That’s great. I’m glad.”

“Yeah. They’re both pretty good schools. Not too far from here. If I keep it up this year, I can definitely get into them.”

“Nice. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. My mom is, too. She’s really been pushing it.” He’s silent for a moment before he continues. “She wants me to have a future. She doesn’t want me to spend my life taking care of her.”

“Do you think you’ll need to?” Newt asks.

Thomas shakes his head slightly. “I don’t think so. She’s getting a little better. Cleans up more. Does some more work from home.”

“That’s good,” Newt gives a small smile. Thomas returns it.

“Yeah. It is. But she’s still pushing me to get into a great college. Whether we can afford it or not. She just wants me to be able to live the life I want, you know?”

“Yeah,” Newt murmurs, a sudden feeling of guilt washing over him. “I do.”

“So where have you chosen? You never told me.”

Newt stops drawing for a second, startled by the question. “Um. Uh…”

Thomas gives a quick laugh. “Still don’t know?”

“I...uh…” _Better to just be honest, Newt._ “I never even started looking.”

“Wait, what?”

“I never started looking. I have no bloody idea what I want to do with my life. OR where I want to go. Anything.”

“Well, what about art? Don’t you want to go to school for that?”

Newt sighs. “I mean, _maybe._ I haven’t given it any thought. Besides, I’m probably not good enough for art school."

“Newt, are you kidding? You’re amazing. You could get into any art school without even trying.”

Newt blushes slightly. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually. I’ve seen your work. Look, right now. You’re using me as a canvas and it still looks amazing.”

Newt looked down at what he had been doing; he drew so it looked like Thomas’ skin was breaking open in places, bones showing in some areas and flowers growing out in others.

Newt dismisses the compliment. “Still. I don’t know if that’s even what I want to do.”

“Can you think of _anything_ you’d want to do?”

Newt contemplates it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Not really. No.”

Thomas purses his lips, thinks for a moment.

“Why don’t you just go to community college?” He suggests. “You can take two years, get your gen eds out of the way, figure out what you want in life. You don’t have to go to college right away. It can wait.”

Newt pauses, considers. Not once had he ever thought about community college. _How could that have slipped my mind?_

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “that could work.”

Thomas beams. “See? It makes sense. You could figure out your life, and then you won’t have to leave during my senior year. I can still see you.”

Newt’s heart skips a beat, his hands suddenly struggling to draw.

“What, were you worried I was gonna go across the country?”

Thomas shrugs. “Kind of. I mean, I’ve only known you since September and you’re already my closest friend. I didn’t exactly want you running off to California or something, you know? I would have missed you.”

Newt nearly squeezes Thomas’ hand right there. It’s still held in his, so gently, his fingers laying open lazily. He could have held his hand right there, ran his thumb across his palm, told him, _“You won’t have to miss me, I won’t leave you, I would follow you anywhere, I would go anywhere you wanted me.”_

But he doesn’t. He just finishes the last detail on the palm, the last budding flower coming through the skin.

“Don’t worry, Thomas. I won’t be going anywhere.”

Thomas smiles. “Good. That’s good. I wouldn’t want you to.”

A silence comes over them, then; Newt’s finished the drawing, but Thomas’ hand is still under his, one arm nuzzling the back, the other with its fingertips laid gently against his palm. Neither of them pull away; Newt out of fear that this is the closest he’ll ever be to holding Thomas’ hand. He’s not sure why Thomas hasn’t.

“I, um…” Thomas starts. Newt looks up, waiting for a response. Thomas looks down at the hands, then back up to Newt, trailing up and down his features in the way that Thomas has done too many times before now. _He’s too observant. He takes everything in. But it looks like something else, sometimes._

Thomas opens his mouth as if to speak, his eyes focused on Newt’s mouth, his fingers bending down slightly, so slightly, but enough to give Newt the impression of Thomas’ hand closing around his own. He waits.

“Yeah?” Newt prompts, wondering what Thomas was going to say.

“Uh, I…” Thomas finally meets Newt’s gaze. Their eyes lock for a moment before Thomas looks back at his hand. He gently pulls it out of Newt’s and looks over the design, a sort of compassion filling his eyes. “I wanted to say that this is really cool. Yeah.”

Newt immediately misses the feeling of Thomas’ skin, but keeps that hidden.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. It’s awesome. I wish it was a tattoo. That way it wouldn’t wash off in a few days."

Newt smiles. “I can always do it again if you want. Or I could change it up.”

Thomas returns the grin. “That’d be cool.” _Yes, please let me hold your hand again._

Thomas admires his hand one last time before smirking at the Wii.

“Come on. Let’s see if this drawing makes me any better at Smash.” He moves to the system and starts setting it up.

Newt laughs. “That’s not how it works, but alright.”

They play like usual, but Newt loses every round, too focused about how Thomas’ hand felt in his own to think about anything else.


	16. Maybe You Two Have Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho throws another party. Only this time, instead of fireworks, there's Teresa. Warning for more underage drinking. Also kind of spoilers for the video game The Legend Of Zelda: Majora's Mask. Kind of.

Two weeks later, for Saint Patrick’s Day, Minho decides he wants to throw another party.

It’s not a surprise to Newt. Everyone in high school seems to have that One Friend that throws parties all the time. That was Minho. Newt was pretty sure Minho even wanted to be a DJ for his career.

He finds out about the party through another text. He’s in the backyard with Thomas, playing fetch with Lola. The weather is finally warm enough to be back outside, and both Newt and Lola missed the warm, shining sun and the grass beneath their feet. Or paws.

He feels his phone buzzing in his pocket and pulls it out, smiling at the text. _St. Patty’s. My place. Feel free to bring your boyfriend with you._

Minho has made comments about Thomas to Newt multiple times since New Year’s. Newt has learned to shrug it off, just like the ice cream vendor at the park.

“Man, you two lovebirds make me sick some days,” Minho scoffed one day after Thomas walked Newt to his history class.

Newt just laughed it off. “We’re not dating. I told you this.”

Minho gave a quick chuckle. “Oh, right, you’re not. Because you’re both too busy making heart-eyes at each other to actually do anything. It’s honestly pathetic.”

“Whatever you say, Minho.”

Newt calls Thomas over to tell him about the party.

“Minho’s again?” Thomas asks. Newt nods. “Oh, man, this is gonna be sweet. My second party. I’m practically a veteran now.”

Newt smirks at Thomas, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you’re a real veteran, what with you getting drunk barely after one beer. I’m sure you remember.”

“Yeah,” Thomas says, laughing. His laughter fades as his eyes focus on a spot in the distance as if he was remembering something. He frowns slightly, then snaps out of his daze. “Teresa will probably be there, right?”

Newt stops smirking. “Why don’t you ask her? After all, you two are basically dating.”

“We’re not _basically_ anything,” Thomas argues.

“Oh, really?” Newt countered. “Just two days ago, you said you guys went to a fancy dinner and it went great. Now today you’re saying you two aren’t even close to dating?”

Thomas shrugs, avoids Newt’s gaze. “It’s...it’s complicated. I don’t know. Some days I think that all I want to do is get back together with her. Make it work for real.”

“And then the other days?”

“Other days…” Thomas slowly brings his gaze back to Newt, looks at him for a moment before continuing, a strange look in his eye. “...other days I don’t think it’s such a good idea. That maybe I shouldn’t give myself away to someone who hurt me before. That I should be with…” He swallows before continuing. “...be with someone else. Someone who makes me happy.”

_I can make you happy. You already make me so happy. More than you know._

Newt tries to comfort him. “Well, maybe at the party you can figure it out. Weigh out how she makes you feel. I’m sure she’ll be there.”

Thomas sighs slightly. “Yeah. I’m sure she will be.”

***

It doesn’t take Teresa long to find them.

They’ve only been at the party for a solid 10 minutes before she saunters over to their group. It’s the usual squad; Newt, Thomas, Minho, Harriet, Sonya, Gally, Frypan. Even Chuck has found his way into the group again. Newt isn’t surprised when Teresa gets there. He _is_ friends with her, after all, and she’s friends with the members of the group.

He’s also not surprised when Teresa gives Thomas a big hug when she sees him, lazily looping her hand with his. Newt wishes he could touch Thomas that easily, just slip their fingers together like it’s no big deal, like they’ve always belonged together. He has to use a pen to even get _close_ to that happening.

They mingle for a little while in the group; everything is relatively normal. There’s still a jealousy stirring inside Newt, but he pushes it down, for the sake of saving himself and for letting his two friends be happy together. That’s all he wants, really, is for them to be happy. He’s willing to put their wants and needs before his own. He always is.

But when Teresa starts leading Thomas away, the jealousy in Newt starts to burn, slowly, like a fire.

He doesn’t see Thomas for a while after that; he assumes Teresa snuck him away to one of the bedrooms to make out, or something. He tries not to think about it as he focuses on the rhythm of the music, laughing and chatting with Minho in the dim green lighting, laughing at everyone else being drunk while he’s one of the few sober people in the room.

But there’s a curiosity, deep inside of him, that can’t help but wonder what they’re up to. And he can’t help but wish that he was Teresa, instead. It’s like Thomas is being dangled in front of him some days, just out of reach. An endless game of cat and mouse. Except he’s neither the cat or the mouse. He’s just watching from the side, never actually getting a chance to play.

They finally rejoin the group about a half hour later, laughing as they make their way through the crowd. Newt gives a relieved smile when he sees them.

Minho welcomes them back with open arms. “Glad to see you two are back! Here, have a beer. One for each of you.”

Teresa turns down the offer. “I’m driving.”

Thomas grins as he grabs both beers. “More for me, then.” He opens one and starts chugging happily.

“Easy, tiger,” Teresa teases.

“Sorry,” Thomas says as he wipes his mouth. “don’t get the chance to drink these very often. I like to go all in.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Frypan jokes, taking a swig of his own beer. Newt laughs as everyone but him and Teresa take a sip. They give each other a smile and a knowing look, almost like _yeah, we’re the responsible ones here._

Thomas drinks happily for another hour or so; Teresa tries to lead him back to some of her other friends a couple of times, but he insists on staying.

“Come on, Tom. I want you to meet my friends from drama. I _know_ you haven’t met them yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute. We are having a heated discussion about...crap. What were we talking about?”

Newt laughs with the group. “We were talking about whether Link dies at the end of Majora’s Mask or not.”

Thomas raises his eyebrows and bounces on his heels once. “Right! Yes! Very important discussion. Will meet them later.”

Teresa rolls her eyes, looking slightly agitated. “Fine. I’ll go talk to them.” She leaves the group and heads across the room to her friends.

Thomas rolls his eyes and takes another sip. “Whatever. Who needs her, right?” He jokingly knocks his shoulder into Newt’s, then puts his arm around his shoulder and shakes him slightly.

“Sure, I guess,” Newt chuckles, suddenly nervous at the feeling of Thomas’ arm draped around him.

“Right! We have more important matters to discuss. So, heeeeere’s my theory....”

He rants about how he thinks Link is alive for a solid ten minutes after that, waving the hand with the bottle enthusiastically as he rambles. His other arm stays draped across Newt’s back the whole time, his hand laying against his shoulder. He does it so casually, Newt isn’t sure if he should say anything. No one else comments on it, so he stays quiet, ignoring the quiet quickening of his pulse.

Teresa moves in and out of the group the rest of the night. Thomas spends some time with her, then drinks some more beer and comes right back to the group. It’s almost like he’ll spend more time with her the more sober he is.

At one point, the group disperses, and Newt and Thomas are left by themselves. They stand by one of the green disco lamps Minho has placed around the house; the ball of light moves in a pattern against Thomas’ as he stands there, going from highlighting his features to bringing him back to the dimly lit room. It illuminates his silly outfit; like Christmas, he went all out for the party, wearing a green Notre Dam shirt, a green flannel, and a silly four-leaf-clover hat.

“This has been...a GREAT party,” Thomas comments, gesturing towards the crowd.

Newt nods along to the music. “Yup. Sure has been. Just like last time.”

“Yeah! Except this time there’s no fireworks.”

“Nope. No fireworks.”

Thomas frowns. “That sucks. I was hoping there’d be fireworks.”

“Sorry, Tommy. Not this time.”

“Damn."

Newt looks over and notices Sonya and Harriet on the couch, in the middle of a heated make out session. Newt laughs, not surprised at all.

“Well, if you were looking for fireworks…” he starts.

Thomas follows his gaze. “Oh, shoot!” he laughs. “Man, they’re really going at it.”

“That’s the usual for them. They are veeeery passionate.”

“I’ll say,” Thomas comments. He turns towards Newt again, scrunches his eyebrows.

Newt chuckles. “What is it?”

And then Thomas says something that almost makes Newt fall over.

“You know, you’re like...you’re like, really beautiful. You’ve got this whole ‘elvin prince’ thing going on. Like a majestic sort of thing. I don’t know. It’s just really beautiful.”

Newt’s face burns every shade of red there is. _Okay, seriously? Talk about dangling him right in front of me._

He tries to laugh it off. “An elvin prince? Really? That’s how I look when you’re drunk?”

Thomas shakes his head. “No, no, it’s like, all the time, you know? You’re like Link. This elf prince with these like...I don’t know. Majestic features. All handsome and stuff like that. Man, how has no one ever dated you?”

“I really don’t know, Tommy.”

Thomas sighs. “I mean, man. Someone really should have asked you out by now. You should have someone trying to sweep you off your feet.” There’s a weird inclination in Thomas’ voice, and not just because he’s drunk. Newt starts to wonder if maybe Thomas is trying to send him a message. Saying something to him not in words. Something like, _maybe I should ask you out?_

Newt shakes the idea out of his head. _Ridiculous. You can’t let yourself think like that. And you can’t let_ him _think you’re thinking that way, either._

So he pushes the idea off again. “I wouldn’t want anyone to. We’ve talked about this. I don’t think anyone should date in high school. You know that.”

Thomas scoffs. “Okay, but like, what if, like...I don’t know. What if someone asked you out, like, right now? You would just say no?”

“I would just say no. There’s no point. For me, anyway.”

“So if someone kissed you. Right now. You would...push them away?” He looks slightly offended at the notion of what Newt’s answers have been.

“I mean, probably, yeah.”

Thomas furrows his eyebrow, looking almost irritated. “Alright. You keep doing that. I’m gonna go find Teresa.” With that, he turns around and heads off through the crowd.

Newt shakes his head in disbelief as he goes.

“What did I say?”

***

He barely sees Thomas after that. He stands with Frypan in the corner, making small talk about school.

He’s having serious flashbacks to New Year’s. It went down almost the same exact way; Thomas starts drinking. Thomas gets drunk. Thomas gets weirdly close to Newt’s face. Thomas starts talking about how Newt is attractive. Thomas talks about kissing. Thomas finds Teresa and spends the rest of the party with her. It’s the same thing.

It is all _very_ confusing.

Newt tries to blame the confusing behavior on the alcohol, but there is still a lot left to answer in Thomas’ words. _Like a majestic elvin prince._ Who says shit like that?

He’s on his way to the bathroom when an arm pulls him into a closet and shuts the door. He starts panicking before a cell phone light turns on and illuminates the room.

It’s Teresa.

“Bloody he-what are you doing?”

“Shh. Be quiet. I wanted to talk to you. In private.”

“So you dragged me into a closet rather than asking me to go outside?” Newt whispers angrily.

“There are people outside. Besides, I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

“Of course I would come. Now, what’s wrong?”

Teresa sighs, her features sharper in the light from the cell phone’s flashlight. “It’s about Tom. Thomas, Tommy. Whatever.”

Newt sighs. _Of course it is. When is it not about Tommy?_   “Okay.”

“Well, I saw you two talking earlier, near the disco lamp? And you seemed to make him really upset. He came to find me, and…”

“And what?”

“Well, he just started kissing me. Just took me into a room and started kissing me like crazy. I didn’t mind, of course, I mean, I was practically _asking_ him to do it before, but-”

“Yeah, I’m starting to lose the part where this involves me.”

“Right. Sorry. So, he was kissing me, but there was something off about him. I could tell. So I asked him what was wrong.”

“What did he say?”

“He said…” She trailed off, looking out into the barely-lit darkness. “...he asked me if I was sure I wanted to be with him. If I was sure about trying again. If he made me happy.”

“And?”

“Well I said yes, of course. Because it’s true.”

“Okay…”

“Then he asked me how I was sure I knew. How I was positive I wanted to be with him and not someone else.”

“He said exactly that?”

“Sort of. He said, ‘How do you know that? How can you be so sure? Haven’t you ever thought that maybe...you’re not with who you’re supposed to be? That you don’t want what you think you want?’”

Newt’s heart is racing for reasons he can’t explain. This still doesn’t involve him.

“And you told him…”

Teresa shrugs. “I told him I just knew. That when you really care about someone, and you want to be with them, you just feel it. You know.”

_Yeah, I know,_ Newt thinks.

“So here’s when it comes back to you,” she continues. “He asked me all of this right after he talked to you. Now, I don’t know what you said, or what he said, or anything. But I know he seemed pretty upset about the whole thing. And I know you guys are close, like, best friends. But I need to ask…”

“Need to ask what?”

Teresa sighs. “If you guys are...you know. Serious.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know! If you guys are seeing each other. Or thinking about it.”

Newt almost laughs. _This again?_

“What? No. It’s not like that at all.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m not really serious about being with him, like, it's not a big deal for me. And from the way he was talking, it seemed like he was talking about you, and I don’t want to get in the way of something if there’s something going on, and-”

Newt places a hand on her shoulder. “Teresa. I can absolutely promise you, there is nothing going on between us. No crushing, no flirting, anything. We are just friends. You’re not getting in the way of anything.” _Well, I’m only lying on my end._

Teresa doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure? Because he talks about you an awful lot and-”

“Trust me. We’re just friends. Look, why don’t you drive him home, yeah? Talk it out. He can tell you the same thing I did.” Newt gives her a reassuring smile, any animosity he felt towards her washing away.

Teresa returns the smile. “Okay. I will. Thank you, Newt.”

“It’s no problem.” He opens the door, gestures his arm out. “Ladies first.”

She laughs as she leaves the closet. “Always a gentleman.”

Newt leaves and closes the door behind her. Teresa walks a few feet down the hall, then stops and turns.

“Newt?”

“Yeah?”

“What if Tom doesn’t say the same thing you did? What if he says...something else?”

Newt shakes his head. “He won’t.”

“But what if he does? What do you want me to do?”

Newt grins. “You don’t do anything, because he’s not going to say anything. Trust me.”

Teresa nods hesitantly. “Okay. I hope you’re right.” She turns and leaves.

_Trust me. I know I am._


	17. Interstitial: Movies and Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little go-between for chapters, since this didn't really fit well in the next chapter. I like diving everything evenly. And yes, I'm double updating again.

Newt remembers the next morning that he had made plans with Thomas to see the latest _Insidious_ movie that night.

He groans and rolls over in bed, burying his face in the pillow. For maybe the first time since they met, the _last_ thing he wants to do is hang out with Thomas. After their weird conversation yesterday, and all of the comments Teresa made, Newt’s mind has been on a nonstop whirl of questions and anxiety. He’s been replaying almost every important interaction they’ve had since they met in September. Every time they’ve brushed hands, every time Thomas looked at his lips, every time they sat _slightly_ too close to each other. Until now, he always considered it happenstance.

But lately, he’s starting to think that there’s something else happening. A sort of chemistry between them he didn’t bother to acknowledge as real.

He knew they had an instant friendship. That much was obvious; Thomas has even admitted multiple times that Newt was his best friend. And Newt knew that he had a crush on Thomas. That was _especially_ obvious.

But he never considered that there was _chemistry_ between them. That what he was feeling for Thomas could _maybe, possibly_ be reciprocated. That it wasn’t unrequited.

He remembers all of the times other people have commented on them. It started with the ice cream vendor in the park; and that was after their very first interaction. That had to mean _something_.

Then it was his parents. Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean anything; his parents were pretty strange. But it’s the thought that counts.

Then it was Minho. Ever since the New Year’s party, Minho had made obnoxious comments about the two of them as if they were dating.

Then it was Aris. Then Mrs. Janson. Then Teresa. All talking about them as if they were already dating, or should have been. That had to mean _something._

Right?

He tries not to get his hopes up too much. He tries to listen to his own advice; _teenagers don’t fall in love. High school romances don’t last_. Once Thomas went off to college, their friendship would most likely disappear. And besides, the idea of Thomas wanting to date anyone other than Teresa seemed ridiculous to Newt.

But he liked the feeling of hoping. Of imagining a day where he and Thomas could be together, openly, without any doubt. He couldn’t deny that he wanted a relationship with Thomas, as pointless as it would have been; he wanted the feeling of _being_ with him. Of kissing him in the street. Of holding his hand. Of celebrating lame anniversaries and having lame, romantic dinners. All of that crud.

And letting himself hope, letting himself have the tiniest sliver of hope that they could get together; well, it was a good feeling. Newt didn’t like that he was letting it happen, but it was a good feeling.

So he let himself hope. A little bit. Not enough to jeopardize anything, and not enough to convince him that anything could actually happen, but enough to make him feel a little less hopeless.

Yet through all that, he still didn’t want to go to the movie.

It would be too awkward; he felt like there was some sort of tension between them after their conversation last night. He only saw him one more time after that, right before Thomas got into Teresa’s car. They matched gazes for _just one second_ too long before Thomas clambered his way into the front seat.

So there was an awkwardness now. A tension. But still, Newt wasn’t one to cancel plans. When the time came to head to the theater, he begrudgingly got into his car and headed off, giving a teasing glare to Lola before he left.

“This is all your fault, you know,” he muttered to her as he left. She just kept smiling and wagging her tail. He rolled his eyes as he shut the door.

They meet up at the theater like they always do. They joke, they smile, they buy an unnecessary amount of candy and soda. All is going well at first, because they don’t bother to talk about anything from the night before. Thomas even avoids mentioning his lingering hangover. They just go about as normal. Newt’s grateful for that.

They’re some of the only people in the theater when they get there. Like teenagers do, they snag the seats all the way in the back, propping their feet up on the seats in front of them. Some sneak previews play on screen before the real ones. There’s a small clip for one of the new Marvel movies.

Thomas leans over to Newt and says in a low voice, “We’re gonna go see that, right?”

Newt laughs quietly. “Of course. Is that even a question?”

“Right. Why would I even ask?”

A couple of seconds pass in silence; Thomas stares down at his hands in his lap. Suddenly, he speaks up again.

“I’m, um. I’m sorry for how I acted. When I was drunk. Last night.”

Newt’s blood freezes. _Of course. He had to bring it up. Everything was going so well!_

He tries dismissing it with a shrug. “S’fine, Tommy. You didn’t do anything."

“No, I did. I was rude to you. For no reason.” Newt doesn’t say anything. Thomas continues. “Look, if you don’t want to date anyone in high school, who am I to tell you differently? It’s your choice. If that’s what makes you happy...if that’s what you really want, then that’s totally okay. I shouldn’t be judging you.”

“I didn’t think you were judging me.”

“Well, I was. Kind of. I was just frustrated.”

“Frustrated? Why?”

“Because…” A sigh. “I don’t know. I guess I just really wanted you to see my point of view. And you weren’t.”

“Oh.”

“But that’s okay, though. I had a talk with Teresa and-”

“SHH,” a voice from a couple rows down shushes, even though they were the only other people in the theater. Thomas rolls his eyes, then finishes his thought.

“-and she told me that it wasn’t in my position to judge. And that if someone told you something, you had to trust and believe them. Not to try and change their mind.”

Newt’s pulse quickens at the mention of Teresa. _Did she ask him? How do I find out?_

“That’s good advice,” he gets out.

Thomas gives a small smile. “Yeah. It is. So I won’t judge you. Or try and change your mind.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“ _Un-leess_ , of course, someone comes along and sweeps you off of your feet, and you fall madly in love. Then I’ll be here to say I told you so.”

Newt grins. “Not gonna happen, Tommy.”

Thomas shrugs. “Hey, man, you never know. But again, not judging. I’m good.”

Newt laughs. There’s a couple more seconds of silence, Newt still tense with worries about what Teresa said. He tries to see if he can find out more.

“So, you said you and Teresa had a chat?”

Thomas nods. “Yeah. While she was driving me home.”

“Was it about you two gettin’ together? Officially?”

Thomas shakes his head. “No. Nothing like that. She just told me that she saw I was frustrated with you, and when I explained why she gave me the advice I just told you. That was it, really.”

“Nothing about you two? At all?”

“Nope. That was honestly it. She was pretty quiet after that. Looked like she was doing a lot of thinking. Worked for me. I wanted to sleep.”

Newt gives a relieved smile. “Right. Figures.”

The lights dim, then, and the real previews start. The rest of their time is normal; they joke at the bad parts of the movie, jump during the scary parts. Thomas accidentally jumps into Newt more than once during the movie, clutching his arm or chest for support. Newt blames it on instinct, but stores a tiny bit of it away into the “hope” chest he’s filling for himself.

Although now that Thomas seems to have accepted his idea of never dating in high school (which is very much a lie), Newt doesn’t see a need for that hope any time soon.


	18. But Falling In Love With You Was Out of My Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas finds something. Newt realizes something. Trigger warning for mentions of suicide and depression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha. I'm sorry. Enjoy.

Another two weeks pass; it’s more of the same. Thomas splits his time between hanging out with Newt and going on pseudo-dates with Teresa. Newt has noticed his times with Teresa have been becoming less frequent. There doesn’t seem to be any riffles between them, so Newt is confused by it all. He figures Teresa is just busy with school, or the library, or something, and dismisses it as irrelevant.

Newt officially applies to community college. His parents are thrilled when he tells them; they give him big hugs and keep saying “we’re so proud of you” and even take him out to dinner. It makes Newt feel proud for the first time in a while, like he’s finally taking a step in the right direction, moving towards his future. Which is something that used to terrify him. But now, he’s starting to see that it’s not so scary. That he’s not completely hopeless. That things can get better.

He compares himself now to this time last year; in a few days, it’ll be a year since his...incident. He thinks about the person he was back then; seeing everything in shades of grey, constantly feeling angry and desolate, with no goals or aspirations. He could barely bring himself to get by every day. Of course, he did it, and with such a great fake smile and positive attitude that no one suspected anything was wrong.

But something was wrong. So, so many things were wrong.

As he takes Lola for a walk around the neighborhood, he thinks about how many things are right, now. He has antidepressants he takes regularly, which help. He has Lola, who’s always there when he needs her. He has his parents, who always supported him. He has his friends; Minho, who secretly cares about him, and Alby, who is just a phone call away.

Then, of course, is Thomas. Tommy. He has him, too. And _god_ , is he grateful.

Of course, Thomas isn’t the only reason Newt was feeling better. And it wouldn’t be healthy if he was. But Newt knew that Thomas was a big part of it. Thomas got him drawing again. Got him going to parties, socializing more. Actually _talking_ to strangers when they came up to pet Lola. Things like that.

He smiles to himself as Lola stares at another dog across the way. Newt waves to the person walking it, and feels, for once, truly happy.

It’s not like this all the time. He has some great days, and he has some low days. And that’s what’s expected. But he knows, deep down, that he is doing so much better than before. He’s starting to think nothing else could go wrong.

 

And then Thomas finds it. The therapy dog sash that Lola is supposed to wear.

It starts off very innocently; they’re doing the usual, sitting down on the bed and playing Smash. Newt is playing as Link, like always, and Thomas is teasing him about it.

“Man, you just can’t get away from Link, can you?” Thomas jokes, bumping his shoulder as they fight.

“What can I say, Tommy? Stick with what you’re good at.”

“Good? I beat you almost every time we play!”

“I wouldn’t say every time.” As if to prove the point, Newt charges up a powerful sword attack and slices Thomas right off of the stage. He curses under his breath as Newt pumps a fist in the air.

“Oh, that’s not fair,” Thomas argues, shaking his head. “You distracted me, that’s cheating.”

“I did no such thing,” Newt defends himself.

Thomas smirks. “That’s it. Revenge time. I’m bringing it out.” He pauses the game and moves over to Newt’s closet, rummaging through it.

Newt laughs, but doesn’t stop him. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“I’m getting that Link costume. As punishment, you’re gonna wear it. And I’m gonna giggle like crazy.”

“Whatever you say, Tommy. Good luck even finding it.”

Thomas doesn’t answer, just continues rummaging through. Newt smiles to himself and checks his phone as he waits.

A minute goes by before Thomas speaks up again. His voice is almost grave when he speaks, a mixture of worry and dread.

“Um. Newt?”

“Yeah, what is it?” Newt answers without looking up.

“What does this mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“ _Assistant Psychiatric Service Dog. Please do not disturb._ What does that mean? Is this for Lola?”

Every muscle in Newt’s body tenses all at once. His heart stops; his blood stops flowing. Every inch of him is still. He slowly lifts his head towards Thomas, who stands in front of the closet, dangling the sash from one hand, a grim expression on his face.

“Um. Uh. It’s, uh. It’s for. Um. Uh…”

“It’s for what?” Thomas asks, moving closer towards the bed. His voice softens. “Newt, if you have something to say, you know you can tell me. I’m here for you, okay? I always am, you know that.”

Newt stands up, tries to get some proper footing. He takes a deep breath before he speaks, ready for his entire friendship with Thomas to shatter.

“Um, yes. The sash is for...is for Lola. It’s hers.”

Thomas looks at the sash, then back at Newt. “Okay. But what does...what does it mean? I mean, it says psychiatric service dog. So she’s like a therapy dog? Right? Like for the people with mental illnesses?”

Newt swallows, tries to keep his voice steady. “Yes. That’s what that means. She’s a therapy dog. Lola is...a therapy dog.”

Thomas blinks in confusion. “Okay. But for who? Is it your mom? Your dad? Were you embarrassed to let me know without them telling me? Is that it?”

Newt takes a shaky breath. _Here we go. No turning back._

“No, she’s not for them. She’s um...my dog. My therapy dog.”

He stares down at his shoes, not wanting to see Thomas’ reaction. There’s a beat of silence.

“So...does that mean that you…”

“Depression. I have depression, Tommy.” Newt’s voice falters as he says it, and he keeps his eyes on the ground.

“Depression? But that...that doesn’t make sense. Whenever we hang out you seem so-”

“Happy?” Newt finished, finally looking up. “Yeah. That’s the beauty of it. You can’t always tell when someone has depression. People are great at hiding it. I was. Am, I guess.”

Thomas swallows, his face filled with worry, his forehead creased.

“So you’re not...happy? Is that what you’re saying?”

Newt shrugs. “I am, now. Most of the time. I’ve gotten better, you know. It’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Newt, how bad did it used to be?”

“Um...it was, um...pretty bad…” Newt trails off, the anxiety in his chest swelling up. He’s never told the story of his suicide attempt until now. “This time last year, I um...well, one day I, um...I came home. From school. No one was home. I was just so tired that day. I barely remembered any of my classes. So I just sort of laid on my bed. And I started thinking. About everything. About how pointless everything was. About how I hated school. How I hated my drawings. How I felt like I was disappointing my parents. How I hated myself…”

Thomas waits patiently, every inch of him laced with worry and sadness. Newt continues, his voice shaking, the start of tears slowly building.

“And I thought, ‘Why bother? What’s the point? There’s no escape from this. You’re trapped here. In this world. In this life. And there’s no way out.’ No way out...except for one.”

“Exc-except for one?”

Thomas voice breaks when he says it. Newt bites his lip, continues.

“Yeah. Except for one. There were these pills...these pills, um, in our medicine cabinet. They were my dad's. You’re only supposed to take one every other day, yeah? Well, I took the whole bottle. I just poured it all in my hand and I just...I swallowed them. All of them. I didn’t even care what happened.”

Thomas’ eyes widen, and his mouth opens slightly. He looks too stunned to speak.

“I don’t remember much after that. Nothing happened for a bit, I just sat in my room. After a while, I must have passed out, or something, I’m not sure. I figured I would have just died from there.”

“But you didn’t.”

Newt shakes his head. “Nope. I didn’t. I woke up in the hospital bed. And my mum-” Newt’s voice breaks on the last word, suddenly remembering the look on his mom’s face when he woke up in the bed. “My mom looked at me. She had been crying, and it looked like she hadn’t slept for days. And she took me, and she pulled me in, and she hung onto me so tightly, like she was afraid I would leave if she didn’t. All I could do was just tell her I was sorry.”

At that, Newt breaks. He’s never thought about that day in detail until now; he always pushed it away, buried it down, ignored it. But telling the story, remembering the look on her face, has brought a wave of despair on Newt he can’t push away. He starts crying, as quietly as possible, and stares at the ground.

“Newt…” Thomas murmurs, sounding more concerned than Newt has heard him before. Suddenly, Newt feels himself being pulled into a hug, Thomas holding onto his back with such intensity that Newt isn’t sure that he can move. But he doesn’t want to; the feeling of Thomas’ arms wrapped around his is all the comforting he needed in this moment. He wraps his arms around Thomas and buries his chin onto Thomas’ shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Thomas whispers.

Newt sniffs. “I didn’t think you would want to deal with...with someone who had a mental illness. After what you said about your dad...I didn’t think you would-”

“Don’t,” Thomas stops him. “Don’t think that. What happened with my dad...that has nothing to do with you, okay? It’s completely different. And I’m not ‘dealing’ with anything. I just have my friend. My best friend. I would never turn you away because you had depression. Never.”

Newt takes a big, shuddering breath. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want you to be worried about me, or-”

Thomas pulls away enough to look at Newt’s face.

“Newt, I _am_ going to worry about you! Because you’re my best friend, and I care about you, and I...I don’t want you to do anything like that again. I don’t want you to feel that bad. So I’m going to worry. But that’s okay. It’s okay to let people worry about you. It’s okay to tell them how you’re feeling. You don’t have to keep everything bottled up inside all the time.”

Newt nods, feeling so relieved at Thomas’ reaction he can barely stand it.

“You can open up to me about anything. No matter how guilty you feel about telling me, or if you’re embarrassed, if you’re scared. No matter what, you can come to me, okay? I don’t want you to keep all of that negativity inside you. It’s not good. You need to let it out. I can be your emotional punching bag, alright? All the bad stuff can come to me. It’s fine. I’ll do that for you. Okay?”

It hits Newt, then. Like a punch in the gut. Like a face-first fall onto the concrete. Like waking up from a dream of freefalling. Like two cars in a head-on collision.

He is in love with Thomas. Blindingly, stupidly, undeniably in love with him. He can’t deny it anymore. It’s not just a crush.

He is staring at this boy of golden-eyed beauty and he is in love. With the birthmark on his cheek. With his stupid, holiday-themed flannels. With his obsession with Super Smash Brothers. With his obsession with NCIS. With his stupid laugh and his lame jokes and his horrible sense of humor. With his sense of loyalty and friendship, of putting his friends before everything else. With his compassion. With how much he cares. With his stupid glasses, stupid smile. Even with his stupid hair.

He is in love with it. All of it. And he is drowning, he is sinking, he is submerged in this new reality and he is so scared, so scared. And so in love. In all of the ways it has ever been written, in all of the songs and poems it has ever taken hold. Every combination of letters and words and symbols to spell out love, he belongs to all of them, because of this boy. Because of Thomas.

“Okay, Newt?”

Newt snaps back to attention. His new reality check steered him off focus for a bit. Thomas is staring deep into his eyes, waiting with a look of compassion and caring so sincere that it takes all Newt has not to close the tiny gap between them.

So he just nods, still feeling like he’s breathing with a new set of lungs. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I mean it, Newt. Anything. I’m your guy. And I know you would do the same for me.”

Newt gives a tiny smile, notices that he’s stopped crying. “Of course.”

Thomas grins back. “Okay. Here; let’s walk down to the smoothie place. You need a pick-me-up treat.”

“Alright. Cool.”

They take Lola with them, strapping her up and heading down the road. Newt tries to act normally, but suddenly every thought Newt has is immediately followed by another.

_Holy shit. I’m in love with him._

_Bloody hell._


	19. Ditching School: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas decides he needs a day off from school.

The next two weeks pass in a strange sort of blur for Newt. The realization of what he’s gotten himself into creeps up on him all the time; like a constant worry that’s just around the corner. He has a fear that it’ll slip one day; that Thomas will tell him a joke and Newt will laugh and say _“man, I’m in love with you.”_ He’s starting to think every sentence he says is just _“I’m in love with you,”_ only with different letters and words. The meaning is still there, but only Newt knows.

He also knows that he doesn’t _want_ to tell Thomas. He doesn’t want Thomas to ever find out. He might have started letting himself have the possibility of hope, but he never planned to actually _act_ on it.

But now the idea of _not_ telling him is almost unbearable. It’s like now that he knows, he needs to speak it out loud. Whether it’s in a nervous whisper or shouted from the rooftops, Newt needs to get it out of him.

Then again, saying it out loud makes it seem real, and that terrifies him. It terrifies him of what he’s allowed himself to feel. It goes against everything he’s ever said. He’s fallen into every single cliché. And he knows how those end; _“and 10 months later, they broke up. And that was it.”_

So he keeps it bundled up. He doesn’t write it down. He doesn’t whisper it to himself at night. He doesn’t tell Minho, or Alby, or Gally, or Teresa, and especially not Thomas. By not telling him, yet constantly thinking about it, it causes him to lose focus. Get a little jittery.

What happens is more of the same; Thomas and Newt hang out like always, and sometimes Thomas hangs out with Teresa. Nowadays, it’s almost always with Newt instead. Newt assumes it’s because of what he told him; now that he knows about his depression, he probably feels like he has to keep watch over Newt, make sure he’s happy on a regular basis. He doesn’t complain.

There’s also a strange sort of connection between them, now. As if they couldn’t have gotten any closer in only seven months’ time, Newt’s confession seems to have bonded the two even closer together. They’ve both bore their souls to the other, now, without repercussion or judgment. That kind of thing holds people together, makes their connection stronger. He feels it, whenever he’s around them. Like a sort of aura.

It comes across in little comments, too. Newt got up to get Thomas a drink of water one day and Thomas said, “Man, what would I do without you?”

Or when Thomas saved Newt from being killed in Call of Duty and Newt said, without thinking, “You’re always there to save my neck, aren’t you?”

Things like that. Little things.

“What would I do without you?”

***

Newt’s sitting in the art room, absentmindedly doodling a picture of Link on his sketchbook. The last few weeks, Newt has finally been working on cartoon drawings as opposed to realistic ones. It’s a stretch from what he normally does, but he finds it’s a lot more fun, and less worrisome, too.

The bell rings. Newt sits up, slightly startled, and starts getting his things together. Before Newt can even zipper his backpack open, he hears a stool screech across the ground next to him. He looks up to see Thomas sitting down, a mischievous smirk on his face.

Newt is startled for a moment by how _good_ Thomas looks today. He hadn’t seen him until now, and the result is startling. Thomas seems to have chosen his best possible outfit; he’s got a blue flannel with a well-fit track shirt underneath, a snug pair of jeans, and his hair is just that perfect amount of messy and styled. Newt even swears that he smells some cologne; not too much, _juuuust_ the right hint. Newt has to hide back a sigh. _God. Why can’t I just kiss him? That’s all I ask._

“Can I help you?” Newt asks, teasing. Thomas’ smirk widens.

“Yes, you can. And you can start by getting your keys.”

“My keys? And what for?”

“Oh, I think you know.”

Newt pauses, thinking. Suddenly, he remembers. “Today? Right now?”

“Right now. I have the whole day planned out, and it’s gonna be fucking sweet. You’re gonna love it.”

Newt stands up, starts putting his things away.

“Did you get your homework, and everything?”

“I can catch up tomorrow.”

“Tommy-“

“I know, I know. ‘Junior year is important.’ Relax. I got it.”

Newt shrugs as he zips of his bag. “If you say so. Now, come on.”

They head out the side door to the car; Thomas is grinning from ear to ear, walking with a little skip in his step. He turns and waves to the school before getting into the passenger’s seat.

Newt turns on the ignition, then turns towards Thomas.

“Alright. Where’s our first stop?”

“It’s a surprise. The whole day will be. Don’t worry, I’ll give you directions.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “Alright then, Tommy.”

He backs out and heads out onto the main road.

“Take that left…next right. Down the road a bit you’ll go right again…”

Newt follows his directions, wondering where Thomas could be taking him.

“There! Pull into the parking lot.”

Newt pulls into a spot. They’re in a strip mall’s plaza.

“Okay, we’re at the mall. What’s the plan?”

“We’re not here for the mall. Come on.” He practically jumps out of the car as he’s saying it. Newt smiles to himself as he turns off the car and exits.

“This way!” Thomas yells, already halfway across the parking lot. Newt jogs to catch up.

Newt meets up with Thomas in front of a set of double doors. Thomas gestures towards them happily, an excited look on his face.

“It’s an arcade!!!” Thomas explains enthusiastically. “It’s the middle of the day, so no one is here! We can have the whole place to ourselves!”

Newt laughs. “Good choice, Tommy.”

“Here, come on. We gotta start with the racing games.” He practically runs into the arcade, almost looking like an excited little boy. Newt can’t help but smile; his enthusiasm is contagious.

Thomas strolls up the front counter, slaps a ten dollar bill down on the register. The cashier looks up from his comic book.

“Yes?”

“Five dollars’ worth of tokens, please.”

The cashier looks up from his comic book, glances at the bill, then back at the two.

“Shouldn’t you guys be in school, or something?”

“Oh, we’re-“ Thomas starts.

“-in college.” Newt finishes for him. “Community college. Had the day off, figured we’d run to the arcade.”

The cashier’s eyebrows raise. “Community college? Well, what’s a handsome English gentleman such as yourself doing down there?”

Newt shrugs. “It’s where I want to be, I suppose. For the time being.”

The cashier smirks as he puts the bill in the register. “In that case, you make sure to let me treat you to a round of air hockey later.”

Newt says nothing, just raises an eyebrow. _Was this guy flirting with him?_

Thomas scoffs impatiently. “Look, can we just have our tokens?”

The cashier lowers his eyebrows at Thomas, drops the bag of tokens into his hands.

“Here. Go nuts.”

“Thank you,” Thomas says, his voice almost cold. “Come on, Newt.” He turns and heads off. The cashier winks at Newt before looking back down at his comic. Newt blushes as he follows Thomas.

Thomas sits down at one of the classic racing games, pulls out some tokens from the bag.

“This should last us a few rounds,” he says as he pops in two tokens in the machine.

“You know, Tommy,” Newt starts as he sits down, “being the only one between the two of us who actually drives, I think I might have an unfair advantage in this game.”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

The race starts; Thomas takes a quick lead, jutting between the cars with ease. Newt smirks, knowing Thomas thinks he has this in the bag. He stays behind Thomas, not bothering to use any of his boosts. Thomas used his all up in the beginning.

They hit their third and final lap.

“What’s the matter, Newt? Can’t catch up?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Tommy.”

They’re at the final stretch to the finish line; ­it’s a clear line ahead, Thomas just a few feet in front of Newt. Newt waits until the last possible second, then uses his boost. He bursts past Thomas at full speed and lands first place at the finish line.

Thomas’ arms fly into the air. “What? Are you KIDDING ME?! That’s so unfair!”

Newt smirks. “Play smarter, not harder.”

Thomas shoves two more tokens in the machine, his face set with determination.

“Oh, I’ll play smarter. Just you watch. Put your tokens in, we’re going again.”

Newt laughs quietly to himself as he puts the tokens in. They start again; Thomas doesn’t use any of his boosts at the beginning. Newt realizes immediately that he’s copying his strategy. Newt decides to play into it and uses his boosts, instead.

They reach the final lap, Newt leading the entire way. Newt peaks over and sees that Thomas is creeping behind him, his finger practically twitching over the boost button. Newt tenses, getting his wheel ready, one eye on Thomas’ boost button. As soon as Thomas hits the button, Newt swerves to the right, blocking Thomas’ path and sending him swerving to the side of the road, where he crashes into a tree. Newt immediately pulls back onto the road and speeds ahead, taking second place overall but still beating Thomas.

Thomas curses. “NO! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“No kidding, here. Just admit it, Tommy. I’m better. You can say it, go on.”

Thomas shakes his head, getting out of the seat. “No way. I’m not admitting anything.”

Newt rolls his eyes as he stands up. “Sore loser,” he mutters to himself.

“What did you just say?”

“Me? Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Suuuuure you didn’t. Come on, let’s try some other games.”

They go around the entire arcade, trying each machine out. The entire time, they’re the only ones in there. Well, them and the flirtatious cashier, who Newt _swears_ he catches checking him out multiple times while they play. Thomas seems to notice, too.

“Ay, buddy. You mind?”

The cashier smiles as he looks back down at his comic. “Whatever you say, lovebird.”

_Lovebird. I swear, if someone calls one of us that one more time…_

They try the basketball machine; Newt misses almost every one. Thomas gets a few, and feels free to rub it in Newt’s face afterward, doing a little victory dance, too.

“Oh my god, you look so stupid,” Newt teases him. He doesn’t finish the sentence the way he was thinking it; _“I just want to kiss you silly.”_

They try the shooting games. The fighting games. Pac-Man. All of it. They make a lap around the entire store, laughing and jokingly bumping shoulders the whole time. Newt relishes in it, treasures this time that they have together. Maybe if the creepy cashier wasn’t there, Newt could start to pretend that this was a date.

They finally make their way to the last machine; the claw machine. It’s filled with silly stuffed animals. Newt figures they won’t even bother; they only have a couple of tokens left, and there’s other machines they could play. But Thomas digs out some coins from the bottom of the bag and puts them in the machine, moving the claw around with intense concentration.

“You actually want something in that thing?” Newt asks jokingly.

Thomas nods slightly. “Yup. Just gotta see if I can get it…”

The claw lowers over something Newt can’t fully see; some sort of golden-yellow thing hidden under another doll. The claw picks the thing on top of it, moves it for a bit, and then drops it.

“Shit,” Thomas hisses. “Aw, sorry, Tommy. Better luck next time.”

“I’m not done,” Thomas mutters, putting two more tokens in the machine. Newt has never seen him this focused and determined before. He watches as Thomas tries again to reach the golden thing; the claw just misses it.

“Damn it,” Thomas murmurs to himself, slapping on hand against the controls. He looks down at the bag; there’s only two tokens left. One more chance.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do something else instead?” Newt asked, puzzled as to why Thomas seems so content on getting this strange golden thing.

“No,” Thomas answers, his features set. “I’m doing this.”

He confidently slides the two tokens into the slot, cracks his knuckles, and starts working the claw. Newt watches with a quiet kind of amusement, but also confusion. The claw lowers down into the prize, then clamps around it. Newt watches with bated breath as it moves the prize over, waiting for it to fall out of its grasp.

“Come on, come on…” Thomas murmurs, eyes glued to the claw.

It moves over slowly, the prize rocking back and forth. Right when it looks like it’s about to fall out, the claw makes it over to the prize drop and plops the prize in.

“Yes!” Thomas pumps his fist in the air.

“Good job, Tommy,” Newt congratulates as Thomas reaches down to get the prize. “Now what was it you worked so hard for?”

Thomas smiles over his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Newt chuckles. “Um. Sure?”

Thomas whips the prize out of the slot; Newt sees now that the golden thing was actually a plush golden retriever.

“It’s for you!!!” Thomas exclaims. “See?! It looks JUST like Lola! It’s uncanny!”

Newt laughs as he takes the plush from Thomas. It did look a lot like Lola, as if someone had made her into a stuffed animal.

“It does look like her,” Newt said, examining the sides. “How could you tell from down there? I could barely see it.”

“Oh, that’s been in there for weeks,” Thomas explained. “Been keeping my eye on it. Figured I would try and get it while you were here. And I got it! Ta-da!”

Newt grins from ear to ear as he looks at the stuffed animal, his cheeks tinted pink. _This is ridiculously cute. How could I be expected NOT to fall in love with Thomas when he did things like this?_

 _Imagine if we actually dated,_ he finds his thoughts drifting to.

He looks back up at Thomas, who waits expectantly. “Thank you. I love it, it’s great.”

“Right? I knew you’d like it. Alright, let’s return this bag.”

They head up to the front counter. Thomas plops the bag down on the counter. The cashier looks up at it.

“Looks like you two had a fun time,” he says dryly.

“Yeah. We did,” Thomas answers.

The cashier notices the stuffed animal in Newt’s arms. He smiles.

“That’s cute. You win that for your boyfriend? I’m jealous.”

Newt’s face burns red. _What is going on? Are we in a gay arcade? Do those exist?_

Thomas scowls. “Actually, I won it for him, thank you very much. My crane skills are impeccable.”

Newt notices he doesn’t mention anything about the boyfriend part. He figures that Thomas is so used to it by now that he just ignores it completely.

The cashier loses his grin. “Oh. Then I guess I’m not so jealous.”

“Whatever. We’re leaving, anyway. Come on, Newt.” Thomas turns around and heads out, Newt following behind him.

As Thomas opens the door, he turns around and yells towards the cashier.

“You know what, you should be jealous of him. I’m a freaking catch, okay?” He shuts the door emphatically behind him as he exits.

Newt whistles. “You really didn’t like that guy.”

Thomas scoffs. “He gave me a bad vibe. But, that’s whatever. We still have more things to do. To the car!”


	20. Ditching School: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More not-date with oblivious people.

Thomas jogs across the parking lot and waits on the passenger’s side. Newt gets in and starts the car.

“Where to next?”

“Newt. Have you learned nothing? It’s a surprise. Now exit the parking lot and make that left over there.”

They drive down more of the main road, Thomas cursing under his breath when they hit traffic. Eventually, they get where Thomas is heading him.

“Here it is! Pull in.”

Newt pulls into a parking spot. He looks up at the building to see that it’s a diner; it’s called The Comic Strip Diner. Newt laughs when he sees the name.

“What in the world…”

“Remember that time I was telling you about that diner that was all comic book themed? And you said, ‘That doesn’t sound real, I think I would have heard of it by now,’ and I said, ‘No it’s totally real and one day I’m gonna show you and rub your face in it.’?” Thomas does a mock British accent when he says Newt’s part.

“Actually, no, I don’t remember that at all. And that accent was terrible, by the way.”

“Well it totally happened. And I thought my accent was great, thank you very much.”

“Alright, so you rubbed my face in it for something I don’t even remember. What next?”

“Oh, that wasn’t it. We’re gonna eat here, too. Their milkshakes are the best. Come on.”

Thomas pops out of the car and walks up the ramp to the front entrance. Newt follows him, and Thomas holds open the door for him.

“After you, good sir,” he says in another mock British accent.

“Shut up,” Newt says, rolling his eyes. They walk into the diner. “Or maybe I should say, ‘Oh, thank y’all for your hospitality, you are just so great. Just like this country we live in, land of the free. Pie. Soccer. America.’”

“I don’t sound like that,” Thomas argues. “And remember, we won the Revolution! Ha! Take that.”

“Yes you do. And congratulations. We didn’t want you anyway.”

Newt looks around at the diner. The walls are made of black-and-white comic strips in a collage-like pattern, and there are figures of various super-heroes all around the diner. There’s an old jukebox in the corner playing a theme to an old Batman TV show. The whole place has a really nice vibe to it that makes Newt smile.

“Welcome to The Comic Strip Diner, would you like to be seated?” A pretty older woman asks behind a little podium.

Thomas clears his throat. “Um, yes. Table for two, please. Sorry, booth, actually.”

She smiles and gathers the menus. “Sure thing. Follow me.”

She walks them to a spot in the back of the diner, where a booth sits snugly in the corner. They sit on opposite sides, and she places the menus down on table.

“Someone will be over to help you shortly,” she says before heading back over to her spot at the podium.

Newt starts flipping through the menu. It’s huge, filled with everything from breakfast platters to quesadillas to steak.

“Any suggestions, Tommy? You know the place better than I do.”

Thomas squints at the menu as he reads, adjusts his glasses.

“Like I said, the milkshakes are top notch. But for food…hmm. I would go with the grilled cheese. That’s always good.”

“Sounds good. What are you getting?”

“A big ass hamburger. I’m starving.”

Newt laughs. “Figures. You did ditch lunch, after all.”

Thomas smiles as he closes the menu. “Totally worth it.”

Before Newt can reply, an almost elderly waitress heads over to their table.

“Are you two ready for your drinks?” she asks.

“Actually, we’re ready to order everything,” Newt replies, closing his own menu.

“Alright, what will it be?”

“I’ll take the um, grilled cheese. And a strawberry milkshake, if you have it.”

“Okay. And for your friend over here?”

“Hamburger, please. Well done. And a chocolate milkshake. Oh, and some fries. Newt, do you wanna split fries?”

Newt nods. “Sure.”

“Great. I’ll be right back with those.” She picks up their menus. Right before she turns to leave, she stops and turns back. “Say, I probably shouldn’t be asking this, but shouldn’t the two of you be in school right now? What are you, ditching for a date, or something?”

Newt’s ready to scream. What was it about the two of them that made people assume they were dating?

He answers before Thomas can. “No, actually, we’re in community college. So, um, no ditching.”

“Oh, okay. That’s still sweet, though. Alright, I’ll be right back with your milkshakes.”

“Wait, that’s not-and she’s gone.” Newt sighs. “Oh well.”

Thomas chuckles as he pulls out his phone and checks the time. “It’s 1:23. I would be in Chemistry right now. Thank god I’m not.”

“What are you learning right now?”

“Stupid shit. pH levels. Acids and bases. Whatever.”

“Is it hard, or are you just bored?”

Thomas shrugs. “Both. It’s hard because I’m bored. But I’ll get through it. Just like every other class this year.”

Newt sighs, feeling a rush of pity. He remembers how awful his junior year was. Of course, he wasn’t taking any AP classes, so it would be harder for Thomas. Then again, he was also depressed and suicidal without any medication. _Balances out…I guess_.

“It’s rough. I know. But you’re almost there. We’re midway through April. A month from now, all of your APs will be done. Then it’s just your other finals, and those are easy. The year will be over before you know it.”

Thomas whistles. “Man. This year flew by, didn’t it?”

“It really did. Your senior year will go by even faster. Trust me. Some days it feels like I blinked and the day is over.”

“You also stay at school for only half the day.”

“Fair point.”

The waitress comes back a few minutes later with their milkshakes, setting them down on the table.

“Here you go, lovebirds. One strawberry and one chocolate. Enjoy.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Newt grumbles, putting his straw in the glass.

At first the “lovebird” comments were a little funny, but now they’re starting to get annoying. It’s like a constant reminder that they aren’t _actually_ together. That this isn’t _actually_ a date, even if it is starting to feel like one.

He starts drinking the milkshake. Thomas was right; it is good. Nice and creamy. He slurps happily.

Suddenly, he’s interrupted by the feeling of something light hitting his face. He shakes his head and then looks down to see a straw wrapper in his lap. Thomas giggles as he holds the straw right next to his mouth.

“Are you serious?” Newt asks in mock irritation.

Thomas laughs even harder as he puts his straw in the milkshake. Newt sees a waitress walking by and flags her down.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes?”

“Could we have more straws, please?”

“Sure. Here you go.” She hands Newt a pile of straws. Newt thanks her, and she heads off.

Thomas doesn’t notice any of this; he’s happily sipping his drink as he looks out the window next to them. Newt very subtly unwraps all of straw tips. He lines them all up and blows, shooting five wrappers into Thomas’ face at once.

Thomas practically chokes on his drink from laughter. “Oh my god. You do not take straws lightly. I didn’t even see you get those.”

“Play smarter, Tommy. Not harder. It’s the way of the world.”

Thomas crumples up all of the straw wrappers into a ball and throws it at Newt.

“Take that!”

The ball misses and lands right next to milkshake. Newt laughs as he slow claps.

“Bravo. Really, you got me. I’m slain.”

Thomas blushes slightly. “Shut up.”

Newt jokingly tosses the wrapped back at him; it lands right on his shoulder.

“That is how you do it!” Newt applauds himself.

They keep throwing the little ball back and forth, laughing almost to the point of tears. A couple of people give them some stares, but Newt doesn’t care. He and Thomas are in their own little world right. Their own silly little world.

About ten minutes later, the waitress comes back with their food.

“Here you go, boys. One well done burger for you, and a grilled cheese for you. And of course, fries for the lovely couple to share.” She winks at Newt. “Enjoy.”

“Gee, thanks,” Newt mutters.

A minute goes by in relative silence; Thomas digs into his burger, practically howling it down. Newt starts in on his grilled cheese, which is also as good as Thomas said it would be.

“You know, we get that a lot,” Thomas suddenly says as he dips a fry into his milkshake.

Newt furrows his eyebrows. “Get what a lot?”

“That we’re dating.” He pops a fry into his mouth, moves on to the next. He seems very casual about the whole thing, but Newt’s nerves are on end. They’ve never actually spoken about it before.

“Oh. I mean, yeah, I guess.”

“No, I mean it happens _a lot_. Like, everywhere we go.” Another fry.

Newt shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell ya. People are strange.”

Thomas hums as he takes another bite of a fry.

“Why do you think that is?” he asks.

“Why what is?”

“Why people think we’re dating.”

Newt tries to act as nonchalant as Thomas and takes a bite of his grilled cheese.

“I don’t really know. I guess cause we’re good mates, you know? People read into it.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

A couple more seconds of silence. Newt just looks down at his food.

“You don’t think it’s because…I don’t know. Maybe we _act_ like we’re dating?”

Newt wishes Thomas would just shut up about all of this. _You make it sound like it’s bothering you._

“That doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t we have to hold hands or somethin’?”

“I mean, I guess. I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t be dating anyone, anyway, right?”

For some reason, the sentence comes across almost like an insult, even though Newt knows he means it like a joke. So he just laughs and ignores the slight agitation in his voice.

“Yeah. Right.”

They eat in more awkward silence for a few minutes. Newt hates the vibe between them now; they were just joking around like idiots a few moments ago. He tries to steer back the conversation to something positive.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? You can’t leave me in suspense.”

Thomas smirks over his food. “Oh, I’m leaving you in suspense. No way am I telling you.”

Newt gives an over exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But it better be good.”

“It will be. Trust me.” Thomas smiles as he pops the last fry into his mouth.

Newt looks down at their empty plates. “You ready to head out?”

"Yup. Wasn’t this place as cool as I said it was? And the food is great, too.”

Newt grins. “It was. Thanks for rubbing it in my face, even if I don’t remember.”

Thomas waves down their waitress and asks for the check.

“So, which one of you is treating tonight?” she asks with a sly smile.

“Oh, we’ll do sep-“ Newt starts.

“Me. It’s my treat,” Thomas interrupts. He turns to Newt and gives a toothy grin. Newt fights back the constant urge to kiss him, or at least squeeze his hand resting on the table.

“Thanks, Tommy,” he says instead. “First the arcade, now this. I better be paying for whatever’s next.”

“Aww, that’s nice,” the waitress coos. “You two are so lovely together, you really are. Warms my heart.”

Thomas chuckles. “Thanks.” He takes the bill and stands up, moving to the front counter. Newt follows close behind.

“You have a nice night, you two,” she calls out as they walk. “Stay safe.”

Newt laughs. “You, too.”

Thomas finishes paying and they head out to the car. They buckle up.

“Alright. Give me my directions.”

It goes the same as before; Thomas guides him along some main roads, not even hinting as to where they might be going. Finally, Newt manages to figure it out on his own.

“I know where we’re going,” he says confidently.

Thomas raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Do enlighten me.”

“You’re bringing me to the movie theater. It’s the only relevant thing within 20 miles of this road.”

“Damn it. Yeah, that’s it. I thought you were gonna guess Chuck E’ Cheese.”

“Chuck E’ Cheese? Is there one around here?”

Thomas shrugs passively. “I mean, I don’t know. I totally haven’t been there recently.”

Newt laughs. “You’ve gone to Chuck E’ Cheese? Like, in the last couple months?”

“More like last week.”

“Last week? What were you doing there?”

“A kid from track decided to have his birthday party there for kicks. His parents even rented out the whole building for him.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know.” There’s a brief pause before Thomas says, “You know, I was gonna suggest we go the drive-in, but then I realized we couldn’t do that until later.”

“Why don’t we do that instead? We can hang out the mall or something until then.”

“Nah. We can’t watch a movie while it’s dark. It ruins the plan.”

“What plan?”

“You’ll see.”

“Alright then.”

“By the way, how have you never been to the drive-in before?”

“We’ve literally had this discussion before.”

“I know, but it just boggles my mind! Your parents give you a car and you never go to the drive-in? I mean, that’s unheard of!”

“No one’s ever asked me to go! And I kind of forgot it was here.”

“Well, someone’s asking you now. Newt, will you go to the drive-in with me? Another day, of course.”

Newt gives a quick chuckle. It almost sounds like Thomas is asking him out. As if today couldn’t feel any _more_ like a date.

“Sure, Tommy, I’d love to.”

“Great! I’ll put it in my planner.”

“So, what movie are we seeing?”

“I don’t know. Some robot movie. I heard it was terrible.”

“You’re gonna take me to see a shitty movie?”

“Shitty movies are great to watch with friends. You can just make fun of it the whole time.”

_People usually do other things at the movie theater, too. But I’m totally not thinking about that. Not at all._

Newt pulls into the parking spot among a sprinkling of scattered cars. It’s only about 2:30 about the time they get to their little local theater, so not many people are there. Newt doesn’t mind.

They walk inside; Newt rushes to the counter and pulls out some bills before Thomas can pay.

“Two tickets for whatever the robot movie is.” He slaps the bills on the counter. Thomas sighs.

“Dammit, Newt. I was gonna pay.”

“You’ve already paid for the arcade and the diner. Now it’s my turn. It’s only fair.”

Their clerk, a middle aged man, smiles as he punches in the tickets. “Here you go. Enjoy the film.”

They head over to the snack stand. They buy a tub of popcorn to split, then head into the theater.

Not much happens during the movie; it’s the same as the last time. They sit in the back, prop their feet up, and spend the whole time making fun of the movie, which really was terrible.

“Are they seriously gonna try and make me believe that these two are in love?” Thomas complains at one point in reference to the main hero and his female sidekick.

“You’re supposed to, Tommy. They’re supposed to have chemistry.”

“They don’t have _any_ chemistry. The freakin’ robots have more chemistry than they do. I’m sick of this.” He throws a piece of popcorn at the screen. “Boo!”

Newt laughs and stops Thomas from throwing another. “Hey, people have to clean those up.”

“One more?” He gives Newt the puppy-dog eyes.

Newt sighs. “One more.”

Thomas gives a good throw of the piece, having it land near the front rows.

Of course, their hands frequently brush in the popcorn tub. It’s such a common happenstance between them now that Newt barely even registers it. They’re always on the cusp of touching, anyway. Always _almost_ holding hands. Newt’s used to it. He’s accepted it.

They head out of the theater, laughing at the horrible ending where somehow the hero saved everyone.

“That’s impossible,” Newt complained. “You can’t save _everyone_."

“Wishful thinking, I guess,” Thomas shrugs.

They head out to the car; it’s late afternoon, the sun starting its slow descent into the horizon. Newt stands for a minute in the parking lot, observing the cloudless sky. He sighs quietly in contentment. _Today has been practically perfect. And it still feels one step away from being a date._

Newt notices Thomas looking at him from the corner of his eye. He turns to find him smiling.

“What?”

“Nothing. You enjoying the view?”

“Of course. It’s gorgeous out.”

“Then you’re gonna love what’s next. Come on. We have to hurry.”

Confused, Newt heads into the car and pulls out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what could the plan be? who knoooooooows??? feel free to guess!


	21. Ditching School: Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finish their day of ditching school (well, for Thomas). Fun for the whole family.

“Alright, where to this time? What are my directions?”

“It’s a little ways away. It’ll take us a bit of time.”

Newt chuckles. “Alright then.”

Thomas leads Newt off the main road to some obscure, bumpy backroads he’s never been before. The buildings start to become few and far between as he navigates through the various twists and turns Thomas guides him through.

Five minutes into the back roads, Newt starts to worry.

“Tommy, where the hell are we going? This looks like somewhere a murder would take place.”

“Don’t worry. We’re almost there, you’ll love it. Make this left.”

They travel for another 7 minutes through the obscure back roads, Thomas having this strange route somehow memorized.

Suddenly, the reach a road on an incline. Thomas’ eyes light up with excitement as he points past the dashboard.

“Here it is! Follow this road. It’ll lead us right to it.”

Newt hits the gas and navigates the bumpy incline up. He goes around some bends before he finally sees the road start to flatten. Still, there’s no buildings or landmarks; it’s just flat ground.

“Tommy, there’s nothing here. Just the road and some sky.”

Thomas tuts. “You’re not looking at it right. Inch closer. You’ll see.”

Newt pulls up until he’s completely flat, then moves up a few feet. Suddenly, he realizes what Thomas was talking about.

They’re at a cliff, or at least a makeshift one. The entire town can be seen right from the car, stretching out across the whole thing. Newt can see the lights twinkling in the buildings, can even map out his house, the park, the school.

It’s beautiful.

He puts the car in park, leans forward in his seat, absorbing as much of it as possible. The whole town, where he’s lived his entire life, all laid out right in front of him.

“Holy shit,” Newt murmurs.

Thomas looks at him with a huge, ear-to-ear, painfully adorable grin.

“What did I tell you? I knew you’d love it.”

“How the hell did you even find this place?”

“I just headed out one day and started walking around. I was sick of this town at the time. I thought it was small. Boring. With nothing and no one of interest. So I desperately started searching for something interesting. Somehow, I came across these back roads. I got a little lost, tried navigating my way back. Then I ended up here.”

“Wow. What a happenstance.”

“I know. I never told anyone about it, either. Not until today.”

“No one?”

Thomas shakes his head. “Absolutely no one. You’re the first.”

“Huh.”

Newt stares out at the town, watching the tiny cars go along the roads.

“It’s beautiful.”

Thomas is still watching Newt’s reaction. “Yeah. It is. That’s why I brought you. Maybe you could use that photographic memory of yours and draw it.”

Newt nods. “Maybe.”

Thomas is silent for a moment, then points towards the sun, right at the horizon to the right of some houses.

“Oh, here! The sun’s about to set. We’re right on time.”

Newt turns and looks; the sun is beginning its slow descent from the sky, cascading through some trees. The sky starts getting tinted a warm orange.

He turns off the car and gets out, then leans against the hood. Thomas joins him. Newt looks down at the buildings, watching how the light reflects off of them.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Newt mutters.

Thomas looks at him quizzically. “What is?”

“The town. It looks so small from here. You think that would make me hate it; make me realize that all of my problems and everything are inconvenient. Irrelevant.”

“But it’s not?”

Newt shakes his head, gives a small smile. “No. From up here, I...I actually really love it. It’s my home. All of it.”

Thomas smiles at him. “Good. I’m glad.”

Newt looks back over at the sunset; a barrage of pinks and purples are mixing in with the orange, sending a splash of colors across the wide sky.

“Thanks for letting me do this,” Thomas suddenly says.

“Doing what?” Newt asks.

Thomas gestures out his arms. “This. Everything. The whole day. I honestly needed a day off.”

“I know you did. You’ve been working your ass off all year.”

Thomas nods. “It’s true. I’m exhausted. But this helped. A lot. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me, too. Especially when I kicked your ass at racing.”

“Hey, you totally cheated!”

“Did not! I am completely fair.”

Thomas scoffs. “Sure.”

Newt shakes his head and stays silent, watching as the sun begins its dip past the horizon. The sky starts to darken around the intense shades of red and orange. Newt watches as the colors splash against the city.

“Um, Newt?”

Newt looks over at Thomas. “Yeah, Tommy?”

“Well, uh…” Thomas looks down at his shoes, kicks some loose stones. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to say thank you for more than just today.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. Like, thanks for being a great friend. For always being there for me when I feel like shit. For letting me come to your house whenever I can’t stand my own. You know. Things like that.”

Newt’s heart starts racing a little. This conversation suddenly turned sentimental. Combine that with the almost blatantly romantic sunset, and Newt was almost convinced this _was_ a date.

“You don’t have to thank me, Tommy. That’s what friends do for each other.”

“I know. But I mean, it’s different, right?” He finally looks up at Newt, his eyes intense. “It’s different with us.”

Newt nods. “Yeah, of course. We’re best friends.”

“No, I know. I just mean...I don’t know. It’s just different. We’re close, you know?” He sighs, kicks some more stones. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I guess it’s just...nice. To have that with another person.”

Newt nods again, his heart rate increasing. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“So, you know. Thanks. For everything.” He hesitates for a split second before reaching down and giving Newt’s hand a quick squeeze, then lets go, turns toward the sky.

The sun finished setting. They missed it.

Newt’s chest practically caves in. _Okay, this is really starting to feel like a date. We just held hands, right? Or something close?_

“You’re welcome,” Newt manages to murmur, though it’s so quiet, he doubts Thomas even heard it at all. He turns back towards the sunset, tries to shake the feeling of this being a date.

Thomas is acting extremely sentimental right now. He planned out a whole day for Newt and Thomas, consisting of things that people usually do on dates. And now they’re on a cliff, overlooking the sunset. It’s so cliche and romantic that Newt can’t help but wonder how Thomas could see this as purely platonic.

And the way Thomas just squeezed his hand. That wasn’t normal. And it wasn’t normal the way Thomas’ ears were tinted red, or how he suddenly looked really nervous. Or that he had looked _especially_ good today. Like he had put this outfit together on purpose. For Newt?

_No, that’s impossible. I’m starting to let this “hope” thing go a little too far. I’m making things up._

_But maybe I’m not._

Newt realizes he hasn’t been paying attention when he sees Thomas’ hand wave across his face.

“Yo, Newt. Are you in there?”

Newt snaps to attention, turns back towards Thomas. “Yeah, sorry. Got distracted. What did you say?”

Thomas chuckles. “I asked if you were excited for prom. All of my friends can’t stop talking about junior prom. I’m sure your friends won’t shut up about it, with promposals and all.”

_And now he’s bringing up prom? What on Earth?_

Newt gives a slightly forced laugh and shrugs. “I’m not going.”

Thomas raises his eyebrows. “You’re not-you’re not going? What? Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah. Prom isn’t exactly my idea of a fun night. Dancing to crappy music, spending too much bloody money on a suit and limo. Not a fun time. Besides, I don’t have anyone to go with.”

“Oh, I’m sure _someone_ out there would be willing to go with you.”

“If you can find that someone, let me know. Until then, I’m not going.”

Thomas sighs, shoves his hands in his pockets. “I get that. I wish someone would ask me to prom. I mean, junior prom seems fun and all, but I feel like senior prom is so much better, you know? I would totally go if someone asked.”

“You can go next year. You know. When you’re a senior.”

Thomas sighs in frustration. “Yeah, I know. I just want to go _this year_. With a _senior._ ”

He gives Newt an odd look, raises an eyebrow. _Geez, Tommy, I get it. You want Teresa to ask you to prom. Don’t have to rub my face in it, or get me to be your wingman. I was just starting to think this was a date, too. Silly thinking._

“Feel free to take my spot. There’s no way I’m going.”

Thomas gives a long sigh, looks at Newt for a few moments. He gives a sharp laugh, sounding half in disbelief and half angry.

“Huh. Alright," he mutters.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s nothing. Whatever.”

“Um. Okay.”

“You know, I bet Teresa wants to go to prom. I should ask her about it. Yeah. I’ll go with Teresa. She’s a senior. And she’d LOVE to go with me.”

Newt gives a forced smile, the romantic feeling he had before suddenly fleeting.

“Good plan. I’m sure she will.”

“Yeah. And we can do all of the traditional couple stuff, too. She can match her dress and my tie. She’ll get me a corsage. We’ll rent a limo. We’ll slow dance. All of that stuff girls do with the guys. Yeah. We’ll do all of that.”

"Good idea."

"Hell, maybe I'll even bring her here!" Thomas spreads his arms out, then brings them slapping down against his sides. "We can bring a blanket. Have a picnic. Watch the sunrise. Hold hands, have a sweet kiss under the lights. This is the perfect place for romantic stuff like that. Can't believe I never thought of that before!" His voice sounds slightly exaggerated and sarcastic towards the end.

“Sounds like a lovely night. I’m sure you two will have a blast." Newt can hear the bitterness in his voice.

“Yeah. We will.” Thomas’ voice almost sounds cold when he says it.

“Good.”

“ _Good._ ”

They pause, an odd tension and awkwardness suddenly settling between them. _How could this perfect day have gone wrong so fast? What did I say?_

“It’s getting late,” Newt says, pointing at the now black sky. “We should head back. I don’t want some serial killer popping out and throwing us off the cliff.”

“Yeah. We should get back.”

They had back into the car and buckle up. Newt hesitates before driving away; he doesn’t want to leave this place with a bad vibe for them.

“Thanks again, Tommy. For bringing me to this place. I’m glad I could be the first.”

“Yeah, well, I had been saving it up. So you should feel lucky.” Thomas gives a smirk. Newt returns it before driving off.

The rest of the night goes back to normal. Newt drops Thomas back off at his house, waving goodbye to his mom at the window. She gives a small but polite wave back.

When Newt gets back to the house, his parents are excited when he says where he’s been.

“So he finally asked you out,” his dad cheered, clapping Newt on the shoulder. “It’s about time.”

“Wha-no, no. It wasn’t a date. We were just hanging out.” _Wasn’t it, though? It really felt like one. Well, right until the end._

"That? Not a date? Oh, that's hard to believe, Newty. But, if you insist."

"It wasn't! Honest. I would have told you if it was."

"You know, you should ask him to prom!" his mom exclaims. "Oh, that would be so precious. I'm sure he'd love to go."

"Oh, not with me," Newt argues. Before his parents can debate with him further, he heads off into his room, shutting the door behind him.

_"I want to go to prom this year. With a senior."_

Newt can't stop thinking about what Thomas said at the cliff, about how he'd acted all day. There was something so...odd about it all. Like at some points, even Thomas acted like it was a date. And the fact that he brought up prom. And kept pushing the idea of someone asking him. Could he have meant Newt?

_No, obviously. He just said he was gonna go with Teresa. You can't keep letting yourself think like this._

_You're gonna end up getting hurt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to those who guessed watching the sunset! It wasn't at the beach, but you were close! Also I'm sorry. Please don't hate me.


	22. He's Thinking About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of a filler chapter, but still important!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Just wanted to thank you again for all of your support and comments; I DO read them all, and it really is a great motivator! That's why I update so frequently; because y'all are so awesome. We're fast approaching some pretty important stuff between these two...I mean...like, REALLY important...so stay tuned!

They remain oddly distant for about another week. Of course, they still text and walk with each other in the halls, but Thomas doesn’t come over Newt’s house uninvited as he usually does. His parents frown as they put their leftovers from dinner, usually enough to feed Thomas, in the fridge.

The entire time, Newt’s head is just a constant back and forth of debating with himself. The day with the arcade, and the diner, and the movie, and the cliff...it all felt so much like a date. Thomas had planned the whole day out, just for the two of them. And he hadn’t shown the cliff to anyone else before. Not even Teresa. If this had happened to a guy and a girl, most people would have assumed it was a date.

Of course, plenty of other people assumed that, too, but that seemed to be a common occurrence with them.

And what did that mean, too? The fact that people constantly called them “lovebirds” or acted like they were a couple. If it had been just his friends and his parents, that would have been one thing; those are people who _knew_ them, people who could be teasing them about it. But complete strangers? People that had only seen them together for 15 seconds and automatically assumed they were a couple? What did that mean?

Newt didn’t like allowing himself the possibility of a maybe. Like, _maybe Thomas isn’t as straight as he thought. Maybe he does like boys, too. Maybe he likes me. Maybe he’s liked me this entire time._

_Or maybe not._

Newt had never been more confused in his life. The time away from Thomas gives Newt time to think about all this and more, yet he never comes up with a concrete answer. He’s starting to think he never will.

He turns to Lola, who is currently sitting next to him on their couch. She’s a year old, now, and has grown tremendously since Newt first got her. She’s not a puppy anymore, that’s for sure. Newt sighs slightly, missing her small, adorable state. But still, she was here and healthy, and Newt was grateful to have her around. He wasn’t sure where he would be without her.

He gives her a loving rub as he shakes his head.

“You know, this really is all your fault,” he says to her. “If it hadn’t been for you and being so damn adorable, Tommy never would have pet you. And then we never would have met, and I wouldn’t be as bloody confused as I am right now.”

Almost on cue, his phone buzzes on the coffee table; a text from Thomas. He reads it.

T: _Alright. I’m doing it. I’m gonna talk to Teresa about prom. I’m so nervous holy shit_

N: _You don’t need to be nervous. She’s your girlfriend, why wouldn’t she want to go with you?_

T: _She’s not my girlfriend. Not yet. That’s why I’m so nervous._

Newt thinks for a moment, then sees Lola and takes a quick picture of her smiling face.

N: _Lola thinks you can do it! Believe in yourself!_

Thomas doesn’t answer after that; Newt figures he took the burst of encouragement and went to go talk to Teresa. He goes back to reading for another half hour, barely focusing on the book, his thoughts still occupied by Thomas.

It’s almost as if every slimmer of hope that Newt has either forced down or ignored is sprouting up all at once, a stream of possibilities immediately followed by a stem of denials. But what good will come of it, anyway? He’s with Teresa. _And besides, high school relationships don’t last. You told him that yourself._

Lola barks once, looks at him expectantly.

“It’s like you know what I’m thinking, don’t you, girl?” Newt teases, ruffling her head. She just smiles back up at him. Newt sighs. “You know, this really is all your fault.”

“What is?”

Newt startles at the sound of Thomas at the door; he hadn’t even heard him open it.

“Jesus, Tommy. Ya scared me half to death.”

Thomas shrugs sheepishly, his arms behind his back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“S’alright. What are you doing here, anyway? Didn’t you just text me saying you were gonna talk to Teresa about prom?”

Thomas looks at the floor. “I don’t know. Suddenly it just didn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure. It was like...like suddenly I didn’t want to go with her. Like I wasn’t supposed to.”

“I’m sure it’s just nerves. You’ll be thinkin’ straight soon enough.”

Thomas shrugs it off. “Whatever. That’s not why I’m here.”

Thomas sits on the chair next to the couch, his arms still behind his back. Newt wonders what he’s hiding.

“I wanted to say I was sorry. For how I acted back at the cliff.”

Newt scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “You didn’t act like anything.”

“No, I did. I got kind of rude. I don’t know why. I just felt really frustrated all of a sudden.”

Newt gives a small smile. “It’s fine, Tommy. I didn’t think you were doing anything.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas asks, his voice sounding uncertain. “Because I really don’t want you to be mad at me. I don’t like it when you are. I don’t like when we fight, or whatever.”

“I’m never mad at you,” Newt says with a small chuckle. “And we’ve never had a fight. You don’t have to worry.”

Thomas gives a small, relieved sigh. “Phew. Alright. Good. The last thing I want is to lose you. As a friend.”

Newt’s heart gives a little leap in his chest; another common occurrence when he’s around Thomas. _The last thing I want is to lose you._

“I’ve said it before, Tommy. I’m not going anywhere.”

Thomas gives a sincere smile. “Good. Oh, and before they melt…”

Thomas finally pulls his arms from behind his back, revealing two chocolate chip ice cream sandwiches, one in each hand.

“I got these to say I’m sorry with. And also as a little throwback. Back to when Lola over here still looked like a puppy.” He says the last part in his cooing voice he always seems to use around her. Newt laughs as he takes the sandwich, looking at it with an amused grin.

“Are you kids gonna buy somethin’, or what?” Newt imitates the ice cream vendor, laughing as he does it.

“Oh, man. That guy was the best.” Thomas unwraps his sandwich, holds it in the air. “Cheers.”

Newt stops for a minute, looking at the ice cream suspended in the air, then back to Thomas. He reflects on when they first did this, back in November, when the thought of inviting Thomas over to his house terrified him. He thinks about how much closer they’ve grown since then, how Newt can give any secret (well, almost any) to Thomas knowing that he’ll keep it to the grave, that he won’t judge him for whatever he's feeling. How they have such a strong bond, such an easiness between them that makes Newt feel as if they’ve known each other all of their lives.

And of course, Newt remembers how _desperately_ in love with Thomas he is. Back then, when they first clinked sandwiches, it seemed like such a crush. Such a silly little crush.

But oh, how he’s fallen.

He smiles as he raises his own sandwich, taps it against Thomas’.

“Cheers.”

Newt takes a bite of his sandwich, laughs when Thomas misses a huge piece and it falls into his lap. Thomas practically cackles as he picks up the fallen cookie piece.

“Well, I guess that’s the way the cookie crumbles,” he jokes. He raises his eyebrows at Newt, waiting for his reaction to the horrible joke. Newt can’t help but laugh, despite how terrible it was.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“That was gold quality comedy right there, Newt,” Thomas remarks, which just makes Newt laugh harder.

Thomas watches as Newt laughs, an odd, somber expression on his face.

He smiles before he says, “You know, I like your laugh.”

Newt stops laughing for a moment, then gives a quick finish to his chuckle. “Um. Thanks? No one’s ever said that to me before.”

Thomas shrugs. “It’s true. I don’t know. It’s just really happy. Like a contagious laugh.” He takes another bite of his sandwich, this time successfully. Newt grins, suppressing one of a million blushes he’s held back since that day in September. _How can Thomas just say things like this and not feel like his heart is about to lurch out of his chest?_

“Thanks. Yours is nice, too.” Newt pauses before taking a bite of his sandwich. “Here, let’s cheer one more time. Only you actually manage to get the food in your mouth this time.”

Thomas smirks. “ _Ha, ha._ Sure.” He holds up the sandwich.

“Cheers.”

***

Newt paces in his bedroom later that day, his mind still conflicted with thoughts of Thomas. He’s accidentally placed himself in an ultimatum. Let himself believe that Thomas doesn’t like him and keep their friendship nice and safe...or convince himself that Thomas feels something to, confess his own feelings, and ruin the whole thing.

He remembers back before all this happened. When all he wanted was some in-between. Just to be in the middle of things, nice and secure. Now he doesn’t want any of that. One or the other. All or nothing. He can’t go on bouncing back and forth between both ends of the spectrum. Either he gives up the idea completely, or dives in headfirst.

“I’m gonna go crazy,” Newt mutters to himself, plopping down on his bed in defeat. “Absolutely crazy. I need to talk to someone about this.”

He falls back on the bed, sighs into the pillow. Suddenly, he’s struck with an idea. He pulls out his phone and dials up Alby. As expected, Alby answers.

“Newt, man. It’s great to hear from you again. How have you been?”

Newt smiles, even though Alby can’t see it.

“I’m doing good. Great, actually. Better than I’ve been in a while.”

“That’s good to hear. Feels like we haven’t talked since your little Christmas dilemma. How’d your friend like the drawings?”

“You were right. He loved them. Practically squeezed me to death once I gave ‘em to him.”

Newt hears Alby chuckle through the phone. “I told you, man. I knew he would love them. That Thomas seems like a good guy.”

“He is. He’s actually, um...kind of why I’m calling. I know I’ve only called you the last couple of months to talk about him, and that’s really selfish of me since I’ve barely even asked you how college is, and-”

“Newt. It’s fine. I get it. Nothing’s going on over here, anyway. More of the same. If you’ve got something on your mind, just say it.”

Newt takes a deep, relieved breath. “Alright. Well, you know how you acted like he was my boyfriend?”

“Of course. The way you met does sound like the beginning of a cheesy romance movie, after all. I actually think it might be.”

“See, that’s the thing. That makes sense. And it’s not just you, like I said. Everyone does it. My parents, our friends, complete bloody strangers. They all assume we’re a couple, or that we like each other.”

“Well, do you?”

Newt stops, startled at the question, even though that’s what he called to talk about.

“I, um...I do. A lot. Like...a lot.”

“Is it more like love?” Alby sounds like he’s smiling.

 _Yes._ “No. I don’t know.” _Yes I do._

“Come on, Newt. Be honest.”

Newt sighs, covers his face with his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s more like love.”

“How long have you known?”

“Never. Forever. I definitely figured it out a couple of weeks ago.”

“Alright. And what about him?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know. Some days, he says things, does things...makes it seem like he might like me. Hell, that he might like guys.”

“Like what?”

“Well, he said he likes to watch me draw.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I don’t know.”

“That’s definitely not a normal thing for a friend to do.”

“You’re telling me. What else...he gave me his phone number after I think the third time we talked. He always sits really close to me during movies. One time he rested his head on my shoulder.”

Alby laughs. “Keep going. This is interesting.”

“Okay. Um...he’s squeezed my hand a couple of times? Not sure if that’s normal. Um...oh, he tells me I’m attractive when he’s drunk. Says I’m like an Elvin prince or something.”

“An Elvin prince?” Alby hasn’t stopped laughing.

“You know. Like Link.”

“Alright. Anything else?”

"He likes to point out when guys are really muscular. He did it when he met Minho. He sounded jealous, but, you know."

"Seems he has a wide taste in men."

"Oh, shut up."

Another chuckle. "Okay. Keep going."

 

“I think he looks at my lips a lot. I might be making that one up.”

“You’re probably not.”

“I don’t know. Oh, and last week he ditched half of his classes and basically planned a whole day for us. We went to the arcade, then the diner, the movies, and then this cliff that overlooked the whole town.”

“Wait. He did all that for you, and you guys still aren’t dating?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, geez. Alright. So what happened at the cliff? People usually hook up at those. You know that, right?”

Newt blushes. “I know. But we didn’t do that. Nothing like that.”

“Okay, so what did you do?”

“We, uh, watched the sunset.”

“Seriously?”

“I wish I was joking.”

“Oh, man. Did he say anything? Act a certain way?”

“Yeah, actually. He started getting really sentimental. Kept thanking me for being his friend, for helping him through all the tough times. We’ve gotten real close, ya know?”

“I know. That’s sweet.”

“It was. He kept bringing up prom, though. About how he was wishing a senior would ask him.”

“And? Please tell me you asked him.”

“What? No. I just said I wasn’t going. Then he got kind of rude. But he apologized for it later.”

“Oh my god, Newt.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“He totally has a crush on you. I mean, think about what you were just saying. That’s not how friends behave.”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“But nothing! I mean, him watching you draw? Taking you to a cliff? That’s pretty gay.”

“He’s not gay. He has a girlfriend. Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Yeah. That’s what keeps holding me back from thinking he really likes me. Every time I think something serious is gonna happen between us, something happens. One of us says something and suddenly he’s all about Teresa. Can’t stop thinking about her, can’t wait to take her to the drive-in, blah, blah blah.”

“He’s torn. That’s all it is. He’s probably never felt this way about a guy before, or at least not this strongly, so he’s not sure what to do. So he goes back to what’s familiar.”

“Well…I mean I guess that could be it. But he seems so happy around her.”

“Newt, I can tell you this right now; he’s thinking about you the entire time. Whatever he’s doing with this girl, however he’s feeling, he’s probably just thinking about you. About taking you to the drive-in. About holding your hand. You’ve only told me a couple things about this kid and already I can tell. It’s no wonder everyone you come across assumes you’re dating.”

Newt doesn’t say anything, absorbs what Alby just said. Could it be true? Could Thomas really be imagining Newt whenever he’s with Teresa? Or maybe just using her as a way to feel “normal” again?

Newt couldn’t imagine Thomas ever wanting to hold his hand, ask him out on a date, take him to the drive-in. Well, technically he already asked him to go. But that was different.

Right?

Alby sighs, his laughter subsided. “Look. I know it’s hard for you to believe that people can be attracted to you. I remember when that girl flirted with you at the carnival, and you shrugged it off as just her being friendly. She couldn’t have been more obvious if she had spelled it out for you.”

“I still don’t think she was flirting,” Newt argues.

“Exactly. You always seem like you’re collected, like you’re sure of yourself. But when it comes down to it, you can never believe that someone might actually have feelings for you. That you deserve it.”

Newt doesn’t respond, unsure of what to say.

“Look. I’m not suggesting that you tell him how you feel if you don’t want to. I get it. You’re scared of losing your friendship. But just...try and keep an open mind, okay? You can’t avoid yourself of happiness forever. You deserve better that that.”

“Okay. Thanks, Alby. I’ll try. Man, I wish you were back here.”

Newt can hear the smile come back in Alby’s voice. “I’ll be home in a few weeks. I’ll be sure to stop by then. We have some catching up to do. For real this time.”

“I know. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Alright. Listen, I gotta go, I have a class in a few minutes. But remember what I said. You two better be dating by the time I get back.”

Newt chuckles. “We’ll see about that.”

He hangs up and reflects on what Alby just said. It all came from someone who had never seen them together, only knew the things Newt told him.

Newt smiled to himself. _Maybe this is a good sign._


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas comes over to study for the APs. He may or may not stay the night. (If you don't know, in America at least, the APs are basically Advanced Placement tests that rank from one to five, five being the best. They're really hard and stressful.)

The APs are approaching. Thomas has three of them to take, and the stress is practically eating him alive. He comes over to study, claims he can’t focus in his own house, and spends most of the time anxiously pacing back and forth with a textbook in his arms.

Newt watches from the couch with a nervous eye. He’s never seen Thomas so stressed.

“I _have_ to pass these,” Thomas mentions as he frustratedly highlights some pages. “If I don’t get a least a three on all of these, there’s no way I’m getting into any good colleges. It’s just like the SAT all over again.”

“Relax, Tommy. You can get into good colleges with no AP exams at all. It’s not a make or break thing.”

“But it is, Newt! Especially with the colleges I’m looking that. There’s no way I’ll get into those without passing these. And from the looks of how I’m doing so far, I can kiss my college career goodbye.” He sprawls himself out on an armchair, closing the book. “Forget this. There’s no point in studying something you know you’re not gonna pass.”

“You’re gonna pass it. You just need to focus. Look…” Newt walks over to Thomas and flips the book back open to where it was before. “You’ve already got what you need highlighted. That’s only a third of the book. That shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Yeah, but it’s _remembering_ it. Not panicking on the day of the test. Which I will.”

“No, you won't. You’re a smart kid. You can handle it.”

“I’m not a kid,” Thomas mumbles down at the textbook.

Newt sighs. It seems like all he does lately is sigh.

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing. The point is, you’re smart, and you can handle this, okay?”

Thomas shrugs, avoids Newt’s eyes. “I guess.”

Newt stands up. “I’m gonna make us some food. It’s hard to study on an empty stomach. I think my mom saved some of her pasta from yesterday.”

Newt’s parents were away for the weekend, off to see some distant relatives. They invited Newt, but he had never even heard of them before, so he stayed back.

Newt moves to the kitchen, taking out the glass bowl from the fridge. He finds a pink Post-It on top of the wrapping in his mom’s handwriting.

_Newty; here is the leftover pasta I promised. Make sure to save some for Thomas!_

_P.S: Be safe while you have the house to yourself._

Newt rolls his eyes at the note, sticks it on the side of the fridge. He moves the bowl to the counter and starts scooping it out onto two other plates.

He looks over at Thomas through the window in the wall. Thomas sits forward in his seat, his eyebrows knit in concentration, his eyes scanning over the pages. He adjusts his glasses with one hand as he turns the page. The light peeking through the gap in the curtains dances in slowly, the dust from the couch rising up and around him, like a sort of spotlight. Newt smiles to himself. _He is so beautiful._

What Alby said on the phone a few days ago comes back again. It’s been in the back of his mind ever since then, like an itch he just can’t scratch.

_“He’s thinking about you the entire time.”_

They _did_ have the house to themselves; Newt imagines gussying up the courage to tell Thomas how he feels, wondering how they would utilize the house if Thomas felt the same…

He shakes himself out of his daze at the ding of the microwave. He pulls the first plate out, puts the other one in.

_Now’s not the right time. He’s already stressed out as it is. He doesn’t need that on top of it. Maybe it’s for the best. Dammit, I’ve changed my mind again. I need to pick a side already._

He silently curses himself as he pours some iced tea for them, brings it to the coffee table. He hears the microwave beep again and brings the plates in as well.

“Here. It’s nothing fancy, but it should help you focus.”

“Are you kidding? I love your mom’s pasta.” Thomas grabs a plate and fork and enthusiastically starts eating. Newt just smiles as he eats his own.

They stay in the living room for a few more hours, Lola coming in every now and then, confused when Newt doesn’t take her outside for her nightly walk. He plays with her in the house for a bit, Thomas watching sadly.

Newt turns and looks at Thomas. “Focus on your work!”

“I can’t. Lola’s here. And I’m not playing with her.”

“Oh my god, Tommy. You can play with her after you study.”

Thomas pouts. “I want to play with her _now_.”

“Coming from the same person who grumbles every time I call him a kid.”

Thomas groans. “Fine. But I can’t sit here if you two are gonna rub it in my face. I’m going to your room.” With that, he picks up his textbook, highlighters, and backpack and ambles down to Newt’s room, shutting the door behind him.

Newt rolls his eyes as he watches Thomas go. _Unbelievable. He acts like he lives here, some days._

Newt plays with Lola for another couple of minutes until she gets tired and sprawls out on the couch. Newt figures that’s his cue to head back down to his room.

He opens the door to find Thomas sitting on his bed, his textbook laid out in front of him. Newt eyes his empty and perfectly usable desk, wondering why Thomas didn’t choose there instead.

Thomas looks up when he sees Newt come in. “Hey. You and Lola done?”

“Yeah,” Newt nods. “She got tired. How’s the studying coming?”

Thomas shrugs, looks back down at the textbook. “Better, I guess. I don’t know.”

“How about some music?” Newt suggests. “That always helps me.”

“Sure. Put on-”

“I’m not putting on Queen, Tommy. A, you’ll get distracted, and B, I’ve heard Queen practically every time you’ve come over here. We’re putting on some of my music for once.”

Thomas sighs. “I guess that’s fair.”

Newt scrolls through his iPod, looking for some quiet, simple music to put on. He finally settles on Mumford and Sons, sets the speakers to a low volume. Thomas nods his head slightly to the music.

“Nice choice.”

“Thanks.”

Newt grabs his book from the desk, sits down on the ground against his bed, and starts reading. He considers drawing, but figures Thomas would end up getting distracted.

“Oh, shoot,” Thomas says suddenly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take the bed from you.”

Newt shrugs. “S’fine. I don’t really care.”

“Are you sure? Because I can totally move if you want.”

“Hey, I’m not the one with APs to study for. You do what you have to do.”

Another hour goes by of almost complete silence, each of them absorbed in their respective books. Newt loses track of the time, but knows it’s getting pretty late.

Suddenly, he feels Thomas’ hand bump across his head accidentally, near the base of his neck. He’s startled by it, but continues reading nonetheless.

Then Thomas starts doing something odd. He lazily traces his knuckles through Newt’s hair, wistfully gliding along. It’s strangely relaxing to Newt, and he melts into it, trying to maintain his focus on the book. He’s not even sure Thomas is aware of what he’s doing; the way he’s moving his fingers makes Newt feel like he’s doing it absentmindedly. The strange contact makes Newt suddenly feel sleepy.

A crink in Newt’s back starts from the position he’s been in. Regretfully, he stands up, stretching out his back to alleviate some of the pain. Thomas seems to notice.

“Alright, that’s enough of you being on the floor. Come on. Take your bed back.”

Newt turns around, smiles down at Thomas. He looks as tired as Newt feels.

“No way, Tommy. I’m fine. You keep working.”

Thomas shakes his head. “Nope. I can’t study knowing that you’re lying there on the floor. Come on. I’ll sit somewhere else.”

Newt smirks. “Well I can’t sit comfortably knowing you’ve given up your studying spot. So, you’ll just have to stay there.”

Thomas sighs. “Newt. Get on the bed.”

“Nope.”

“Newt.”

“Not going anywhere, Tommy.”

Thomas suddenly grabs Newt’s arm, drags him down so he’s sitting on the bed next to him.

“Yes, you are.”

Thomas grabs his book again, adjusts back into his reading position, acting as if what just happened meant absolutely nothing. Newt just looks at Thomas, a million feelings running through him at once. _This boy was something else._

Losing the urge to fight it off, he adjust so he’s sitting side by side with Thomas, then starts reading his book again, their shoulders and legs brushing constantly. Newt can barely focus on the book. Here they were, in his house, on his bed. And there was no one else home. All Newt could think about was turning over, wrapping his legs around Thomas, throwing the stupid textbook on the ground and just kissing him, everywhere, anywhere Thomas would allow him. It was the biggest tease that had ever happened to him, and it took every ounce of his willpower to not tell Thomas right there, just come out (literally) and say, _“Look, Tommy, I’m clearly very gay and you’re clearly very attractive. Based on our current position, I think we can make something work out here.”_

But he doesn’t. He just bites down on his lips, so fiercely he thinks he might bleed, and pours every ounce of concentration that he has into reading his book.

Time slips by; Newt starts dozing off at times, has to shake himself awake. He catches himself once right before he landed on Thomas’ shoulder.

Thomas looks exhausted, too. Newt can see his eyes drooping closed and snapping back open as he goes along the pages, shaking his head every time he snaps awake.

“You exhausted too, Tommy?” Newt asks as he stretches out his legs.

Thomas yawns, mimicking Newt’s motions. “Yeah. I can barely even read the pages. But whatever. I need to keep going.”

“What, did you plan on walking home at 5 A.M.?”

Thomas shrugs. “Whatever I need to do.”

Newt rolls his eyes, turns back to his book. Mumford and Sons plays on in the background, the relaxing hum of the lyrics and melody drifting him off. He starts fading, quickly. The words start to blur together, his eyes drooping…

 

 

He wakes up to find Thomas pressed against him. One hand lays lazily in his hair, the other arm wrapping around him, meeting with Thomas’ hand on the pillow, the fingers closely locked. His chest is right up against Thomas’ back, and his lips are lightly lingering over Thomas’ hair.

Newt freezes, unsure of what to do next. This was, by far, the strangest thing that had ever happened between them. _How the hell did this happen? Wasn’t he just studying?_

Newt tries to look around without moving too much; he peers over Thomas’ head to see if he’s still sleeping, which he is. His eyes move over to the floor and see Thomas’ textbook and highlighters sprawled around, the pages bent at awkward angles, like it fell on its own.

Newt looks at his clock; it was 8 AM. They slept through the whole night.

Newt stays still, barely breathing, all of his muscles tense. His heart is racing like a jackhammer, and he’s afraid Thomas will feel it in his back and wake up. A part of him wants to practically push Thomas off of him, do whatever he has to to get away from this situation.

_What happens when Thomas wakes up? What am I supposed to say? This isn’t what friends do. This really is not what friends do._

The other half of him is screaming to let him relish in this, relish in the feeling of being this close to Thomas, of literally spooning and cuddling with him, their hands interlocked, bodies pressed against each other. Newt can hear Thomas’ soft snoring, and his chest swells. _You might never get anything like this ever again. Don’t you dare move. Don’t you dare to anything to mess this up._

Newt gives into that half of him, melting into Thomas, losing the tension he had before. He imagines what it would be like to always do this with Thomas; hold his hand, cuddle, trace his lips upon his skin. It’s like getting a sample and never getting the chance to have the whole meal.

A few minutes go by before Thomas turns, huddling his face into Newt’s shoulder. Newt freezes again, nervous that Thomas woke up. He notices his arm is trapped under Thomas, and risks shifting slightly to get it out. It pops out, but Newt notices that Thomas’ breathing stops being even. He looks down in fear to see Thomas’ eyes scrunch, then flutter open slowly, looking as if he was still half asleep. His half-open eyes look at Newt’s shirt, trail across his chest and up to the lower half of his face, taking in where he is.

Newt expects him to jump up, run out the door, leave Newt alone forever. But instead, Thomas does something else.

He closes his eyes, smiles, and buries his face into Newt’s chest, sighing softly.

Newt tries to figure out if Thomas was really awake or asleep.

_He had to be awake, right? His eyes opened. They were open. Look, his breathing still isn’t even. He’s awake._

_Oh my god, he’s awake. So he just did that? While he was awake? What do I do? What am I supposed to do?_

_What does any of this mean? What is going on anymore?_

Newt’s usually prepared to handle tense situations. His own daily struggles he couldn’t always handle, but when it came to high pressure situations, Newt was calm and collected. He knew how to handle a crisis.

But this? This was every storm he never prepared for. It was the most vicious of hurricanes, the fastest of tornadoes, an earth-shattering quake. His whole world was shaking and he couldn’t find solid ground.

All because of a boy sleeping on his chest. The most peaceful thing he could imagine, causing him to feel like he was getting swept away in a frenzy.

 _Alright_ , Newt decides. _This is it. This is the final straw. I can’t do this and then stay just his friend. It’s either all or nothing. I can’t be teased like this and then act like all I ever want to be is his friend._

_I can’t be expected to do that anymore._

He tries to take his chances; he slowly starts tracing one hand through Thomas’ hair, as gently as possible. His other arm still drapes at the bend of his hip. Thomas seems to melt into the touch, taking a deep, sleepy breath as he snuggles into Newt. Newt tries to let his tension slide, enjoy this moment with Thomas. This was everything he had ever wanted with him; well, almost. He was still missing a kiss. But this was nice, too. It was more than nice. It was perfect.

Thomas drifts back to sleep quickly, Newt attempting to follow suit. But this kind of contact with Thomas has him too on edge, too alert to fall back to sleep. He longs for the day that this is so common between them that he can easily fall asleep in Thomas’ arms, claim it as home.

Something that Thomas has already done, apparently.

He lets himself lay with Thomas for another half hour until he hears his stomach growling. _Right. Guess I have to make breakfast for him, now._

He slowly undoes himself from Thomas, sits up and creeps around him, tiptoeing his way off the bed and out of the room. He turns once before he leaves; Thomas still seems to be asleep, but adjusts after the loss of Newt, his brow slightly furrowed, as if his sleeping self was confused. Newt smiles at Thomas, then makes the decision.

_I want this. I want to be with Thomas. I think he might, too. And I can’t hold back anymore._

So he goes into the kitchen to make breakfast, starting on some pancakes. He flips them in a pan as he ponders the best way to go about telling him. He’s never exactly done this before. How was he supposed to do it?

_“So, Tommy. I might be in love with you. Ditto for you?”_

_“Tommy! We should make out.”_

_“We just cuddled, right? So can you just say you like me, or…”_

No, none of those would work. Newt shook his head as he flipped another pancake. _Maybe I’ll just know when the time comes._

He hears Thomas shuffle into the kitchen, turns to see him rubbing his eyes, his hair ruffled. Newt grins at the sight, his chest swelling with something called love.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Newt teases, flipping a pancake. “Sleep well?”

“Best in a while, actually,” Thomas replies. He gives a sheepish grin towards Newt. Newt blushes, makes sure to keep his face hidden.

“Good. I made us some breakfast. Hope you like pancakes.”

“Is that even a question?” Thomas teases.

_Does Tommy know? I can’t tell if he remembers. Maybe he forgot once he fell back asleep._

_It doesn’t matter. I have to tell him now, or I never will._

Newt turns off the griddle, sets the pancakes on a plate, and brings them to the table, setting them down.

“Here ya go. Eat up, Tommy.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Thomas gets started on the pancakes, pouring a mountain of syrup over them before starting. Newt sits down across from him, picks at the pancakes. His nerves over what he’s about to say have caused him to lose his appetite.

“Listen, Tommy…”

“Yeah?” Thomas says between bites.

“Well, I…”

“Oh, wait. I just remembered my stuff is still in your room. I’ll be right back.” He gets up and goes down the hall to Newt’s room. Newt sighs, takes a bite of his pancakes.

Thomas comes back with his backpack, starts putting his things away. “Sorry about that. Go on.”

“Well, I was just gonna say that-” Newt stops when he sees something reflect the light in Thomas’ bag. “Hey, what’s that?”

“What’s what?” Thomas asks, his eyebrows bent. He looks in his bag, looks nervous when he spots what’s inside. “Oh. It’s, um…” He pulls out two tickets to the junior prom.

“Oh,” Newt mutters.

“Yeah. I was going to, um, ask Teresa. This afternoon.”

It’s like someone took a pin and just popped Newt right open. Every ounce of hope he had in him, every morsel of hope he had for Thomas feeling the same as Newt felt, suddenly gets drained right out of him, all at once. He can practically feel his chest sagging. Every moment they’ve had up until now seems silly, misread. Thomas probably snuggled up to Newt because he was warm. He was half asleep, he didn’t know what he was doing.

And the cliff? That was just happenstance. Thomas wasn’t hinting at Newt to ask him to prom. He never was.

Every moment, everything Newt had built up, it all seemed misconstrued, now.

Newt wants to punch himself. _How could I have been so stupid? I almost let this friendship slip. Remember what Thomas said about how he lost Teresa as a friend? You almost let that happen._

_But I don’t think I can even be just his friend. Not anymore. Not after this._

Thomas seems to sense the hurt on Newt’s face, because he quickly tries to cover it up.

“I mean, it wasn’t like a definite thing yet. I honestly don’t even think I want to, I’ll probably ask som-”

“You know what, Tommy?” Newt interrupts, hearing the passive aggressiveness in his voice. “I just remembered I have to pick up my parents from the airport. Yup. So, I guess you have to go.”

Newt quickly stands up, helps gather the rest of Thomas’ things from the table.

“Wait, right now? I thought your parents didn’t come back until Monday.”

“Nope,” Newt lies. “Got a text this morning. They’re coming home early. Turns out the relatives were a bunch of assholes. So, I guess you’ll be leaving.”

Newt practically shoves Thomas’ things into his arms, starts leading him out the door.

“What, I can’t come with you?” Thomas asks, sounding half like a joke and half full of worry. “Your parents love me.”

_I can’t be around you right now. I’ll say something I’ll regret._

“Nope, sorry. Gotta save room in the car, you know how it is. He grabs his keys, gently shoving Thomas out the door, locking the door behind him. “You can walk home, right? You always do, who am I kidding.” He unlocks his car door. “I’ll see you around!” He can hear the false positivity in his voice, knows he’s acting rashly and selfishly, but he doesn’t care. He’s had enough of pretending.

So he pulls out of the driveway and heads down the street, leaving a bewildered looking Thomas at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please dont hurt me


	24. I Think He's Heartbroken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to avoid Thomas.

Newt learns that it’s very hard to avoid Thomas.

And by very hard, he means he learns that he spent a lot more time around Thomas than he thought he did.

He realizes this for the first time when he goes to school the next day, a Monday, and almost immediately spots Thomas down the hall.

Thomas doesn’t see him, luckily; he’s talking with his group of soccer friends, seemingly disinterested in their conversation. He half-laughs at a joke, squints past them for a second, then looks back. Newt panics for a second before darting down the opposite hall, deciding to take a back route to his next class.

He realizes this for the second time when he has to take back routes to all of his classes, remembering that normally Thomas walks him to class. Thomas texts him in confusion.

_T: Are you here today? I haven’t seen you. Did something happen with your parents, or something?_

Newt doesn’t like the idea of lying to Thomas, so he decides not to answer instead. He’s not sure if that’s any better.

He realizes it’s hard to avoid Thomas for the third time when, after three days of completely avoiding him, Thomas starts to catch on.

_T: Newt. What is going on? Are you okay? Where have you been?_

_T: Did I make you mad somehow? Is that why you won’t answer me?_

_T: I’m sorry if I did something to make you mad. Please just talk to me._

Again, he doesn’t answer. The need to burns inside him like a brushfire, but he attempt to douse it and turns the screen over, leaving only a blue rim around the case.

But there’s an itching, a quiet urge at the tips of his fingers, to type out a paragraph of apologizes and admittance and questions and answers. Or, at the very least, a sentence. An _“I’m okay,” “I’m not mad at you,”_ a _“Don’t worry about me.”_ Not even that.

He realizes it’s hard to avoid Thomas when he misses him constantly.

He realizes it’s hard to avoid Thomas when his parents ask why Newt’s been locking the door lately.

“Well, it’s not exactly safe to leave our house ready for anyone to stroll into,” Newt claims over dinner.

“But we lock it at night,” his mom comments. “You’re locking it in the middle of the bloody day. What kind of criminal robs a house in the afternoon?”

Newt shrugs, shoves a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “I don’t know. Someone.”

His parents shrug it off, but their faces have a look of disbelief.

He realizes it’s hard to avoid Thomas, and hard to avoid telling his parents _why_ , when Thomas tries to come to the house after four days.

He knocks on the door urgently. Newt watches from the window in the kitchen; he can see the rippled silhouette of Thomas through the glass. He freezes, microwave door halfway closed.

“Newt. Are you there?”

Newt stays silent, his muscles rigid and still. Another three knocks.

“Newt? Linda? Hell, is Lola there? Please, can someone answer? I just have a message, okay?”

He stands for another minute, knocking every now and then, before his silhouette disappears from the door.

His mom pats down the hall in her slippers, looking at the door in confusion.

“Was that Thomas?” she asks.

Newt nods, finishes closing the microwave. “Yup.”

“Well, why didn’t you let him in?”

_I think that was my first mistake,_ he finds himself thinking.

Newt turns so his mother can’t see him, pretends to rummage through the fridge.

“No reason.”

“Oh, none of that. There’s a reason. What’s going on between you two? Did you have an argument?”

Newt pulls out a carton of juice, almost slams it onto the counter.

“Nothing like that.”

“Than what is it? You don’t leave your friend out in the cold without a reason.”

“Mum, it’s spring.”

“You know what I mean.”

Newt sighs as he grabs a cup, again, almost slamming the cupboard door.

“Look, I just thought he had a lot of tests to study for, and that he should focus on them. So I’m giving him some space.”

“Love, it doesn’t look like he wants you to give him some space.”

Newt pours the juice, gripping the carton tightly.

“Well, it’s for the best.”

His mother sighs and turns back down the hall to her room.

Lola also realizes that it’s hard for Newt to avoid Thomas. Like her training taught her, she recognizes that Newt’s going through a hard time, and stays by him more than usual. While it’s not a depressive spell, having her around certainly helps. She makes sure to bring him his pill bottle, and they play frisbee regularly.

Yet, at the same time, having her around can remind him of Thomas; after all, she is the reason they met. He can’t help but notice that Thomas will always be a part of Lola, in a strange way. As if they owned her _together,_ like that girl way back in October thought.

He realizes it’s hard to avoid talking to someone about it when Minho notices Newt rubbing his forehead during English, staring down at his phone.

“What’s the matter?” Minho asks.

Newt shakes his head. “Nothing. M’fine.”

“You’re not fine. You look like someone hit you with a truck. I swear, the bags under your eyes? _They_ have bags.”

Newt couldn’t deny that; he was having a hard time sleeping lately. That was usually normal, but it hadn’t been this bad in a while. His mind was too preoccupied to relax.

“I’m just tired.”

“Nope. No way. I know you, and I know something’s up. So, in honor of being a good friend, I’m invading your privacy.” Suddenly, Minho reaches over and snatches Newt’s phone out of his hand.

“Dude!”

Minho doesn’t answer, just looks at the unanswered texts from Thomas that have accumulated over the last five days.

_T: Okay, now I definitely know you’re mad at me._

_T: I don’t know what I did, but I’m really sorry. Okay? I’m sorry._

_T: Can you please just talk to me? This is weird. Not talking to you is weird._

_T: Aris said he saw you in the halls, so you can’t be dead._

_T: I guess you’re avoiding me. Please don’t be._

_T: Look, I’m really sorry for whatever made you mad. I’ve been trying to think of something and all I can come up with is me eating your leftovers that one time._

_T: I don’t know what I did and I’m sorry. Please just talk to me?_

_T: A couple of days of not talking makes me realize how much we talk. Huh._

_T: Are you thinking of hurting yourself again? Please don’t._

And then, the one that just came through:

_T: You know, I really miss you._

Minho gives a sigh of his own as he stares down at the phone, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“Damn. What, did he diss your art, or something?”

Newt snatches the phone back, shoves it in his pocket.

“No, he didn’t.”

“Then why are you avoiding him? I mean, look at you. Something must have happened.”

Newt doesn’t answer, just fiddles with his hands. Minho sighs again, his tone turning somber.

“Dude. Just tell him.”

Newt turns to Minho. “Tell him what?”

“That you like him. That you want to kiss him. I don’t know. But this? This is called avoiding your problems. And the Newt I know doesn’t do that. This kid’s got you turned inside out.”

Newt shakes his head. “S’not that simple, Minho.”

Minho shrugs. “It could be.”

The bell rings; Newt packs up his stuff and heads out before Minho can convince him otherwise.

Newt realizes how much Thomas and him do together when he tries to play video games and can’t find it entertaining. He doesn’t even bother to try Smash Brothers.

It hits him like a punch in the gut when he tries to draw.

He tried drawing Spider-Man, wanting to practice with the lines on his costume, getting the perspective right. But as soon as he picked up his pencil, all of the motivation left. His hand just layed on the paper, pencil frozen, useless in his hand.

It doesn’t help that he was using the sketchbook Thomas gave him for Christmas. It’s like he was always showing up where he least expected.

He knows it’s really bad when Teresa texts him. Which, naturally, he also doesn’t answer.

_Teresa: Tom is really worried about you. He thinks you might be trying to hurt yourself again, like last year. Is that what you’re thinking? Because we’re here for you. You know that._

_Teresa: He can’t stop worrying about you. I swear, I’ve never seen his hands shake before. Now he doesn’t stop._

_Teresa: I’m starting to think you lied about there not being anything between you two._

_Teresa: Please talk to him. I think he’s heartbroken._

It hurts Newt not to answer these. It hurts more when, six days into avoiding him, he realizes his Read receipt had been on the entire time.

It hurts to avoid Thomas. It hurts to not be with him the way he wants, to watch him be with someone else, but it’s starting to hurt more to not be around him at all.

But Newt can’t see any other way.

Later that day, Lola decides to pull out something from the closet while Newt reads Hamlet. Again.

He notices out of the corner of his eye, and turns to see Lola with Thomas’ old sweatshirt at her paws.

He had completely forgotten that Thomas had left it there, back in February. He remembers texting him later reminding him, Thomas telling him he would _“get it some time”._ Then, when Thomas was freezing the next week, Newt lent him his own extra-baggy sweatshirt, forgetting about Thomas’ in the closet.

Newt realizes that Thomas also never gave that back.

He looks down at the sweatshirt, then back up at Lola.

“What? You want me to run down the block and do a sweater swap? Get a little spring cleaning done?”

Lola just waits. Newt rolls his eyes and goes back to his play.

_Let him keep the bloody sweatshirt for all I care. Sell it at a garage sale. Throw it out. I’m not asking for it back. I’ll probably find him making out with Teresa if I tried._

Another minute later, Lola jumps on the bed, laying the sweatshirt on top of the book.

“Are you kidding me?”

She barks, once, almost in a staring contest with Newt. Finally, she hops off the bed, trotting back to the living room.

Newt looks down at the sweatshirt, soft and faded in his lap. A flood of emotions swirl inside him as he stares at it; anger, regret, longing. His mind is a tornado.

Gritting his teeth, he jumps off the bed, setting out of the house. There’s an adrenaline coursing through him, a need to get _out, away, anywhere else_. He needs to think.

Lola barks as he gets to the door.

“Relax,” he says to her, throwing on a jacket. “I just need some air.”

He sets off down the road, no plan in mind, no set course of action. His phone buzzes.

_T: I’m just gonna keep saying I’m sorry. So I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

_T: I feel like I’m talking to a ghost._

_T: Don’t disappear forever, okay?_

_T: Look, I need to tell you something. I tried to come to your house and do it, but no one ever answered. I should have done this a while ago. But I need to see you to tell you. So please, just answer me, okay? I really need to tell you something._

Newt’s hand shakes as he stares down at the phone, his mind about to tear itself in half. Without reason, he finds a destination, and sets down the road.

And he starts walking to the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for being great readers and not killing me but also asking for my address after reading my strangely unnamed chapter. ur efforts will be rewarded soon


	25. Blink Back To Let Me Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens.

Newt hasn’t been to the park since their last visit in November; he’s almost afraid to go back, afraid to relive all of the memories of a certain brown-eyed boy who came along and flipped his whole world upside down with a smile.

But right now, it seems like the only place he can think of to go.

He accidentally finds the old bench they used to sit on, almost highlighted by the park lamp near it. He sits down, looking at the quiet, dark landscape, remembering when he used to come there by himself and read comics. Back then, things were simple.

How could he have allowed himself to hope? To think that Thomas could ever feel anything for him other than friendship was absurd. Thomas liked girls; he had always been very clear about that. And he seemed to be almost adamant about getting back together with Teresa. Why would he ever think of Newt as more than a friend?

Sure, Thomas has said and done some...questionable things. Like resting his head on his shoulder during a movie. Like watching him while he drew, like gently running his fingers over his lips to examine for bruising. Like squeezing his hand, like staring at him just a moment too long, like telling Newt he looks adorable, looks beautiful, looks like a catch.

Like falling asleep in his arms, huddling into his chest, sighing softly with content as he burrowed his head into Newt.

Yeah, those stupid moments gave Newt the bit of hope that Thomas saw him in _that_ way. That it wasn’t a one-sided thing.

But hope breeds eternal misery. Newt realizes now that he misconstrued all of that; Thomas was just an affectionate and kind person. A touchy-feely kind of person. That didn’t mean he wanted to be with Newt. It didn’t mean anything at all.

And Newt knows, now, that he can’t go on being Thomas’ friend anymore. At first, it was fine; just a crush that he had on a friend. He could still be around him and be okay, not have to worry about it. But now the weight of his feelings is crushing down on him, pulling him down onto the ground. He can’t take one more second of not being able to hold Thomas, kiss him, tell him that he loves him and have it be said back, through shy smiles and nervous hand holding and everything that comes out of a relationship.

And he knows he can’t have that. Not with Thomas, not with anyone. Why would anyone ever want to be with Newt? He was bitter, selfish, angry. Who would want to be around that?

His fingers curl and grip the bench beneath him, and he grinds his teeth together.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. You just had to go and fall for him, didn’t you? You just had to let yourself hope, let yourself give in, let yourself-_

“Newt! Is that you?”

Newt’s blood freezes, an icy current rushing through his veins. It’s Thomas. _How the hell…_

He hears footsteps come closer, keeps his eyes focused on the tree in front of him, not letting himself move an inch.

“Oh, thank god. I’ve been trying to talk to you for days. You’re not answering any texts, your parents don’t pick up the phone. I haven’t even seen you in school. I thought something happened. I thought…” He trails off, and Newt knows what Thomas is implying. _I thought you tried to kill yourself again._

Newt just stays silent, his foot digging into the grass beneath him.

“Newt. Come on, please. You can talk to me. You know that.”

More silence.

“Newt. I’m right here, can you not see me? I’m talking to you.” His voice is edgy, now.

Silence. Newt is hoping that if he doesn’t answer for long enough, Thomas will just go away. He’s too volatile, too high-stress right now, and he knows if Thomas doesn’t leave that he’ll end up saying something he’ll regret.

“Newt, I know you can hear me.”

_Stubborn as always. He’s not going anywhere._

Newt sighs and stands up, giving a shrug and slapping his arms to his sides as he turns to Thomas slowly.

“Newt, why are you ignoring me?”

He tries lying. “I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. You just did. And you have been the last week, too.”

Newt just taps his foot and clenches his jaw, the anxiety and stress in him building up, almost consuming him.

“Did I...did I do something to make you upset?” Thomas asks, taking a step closer, his voice laced with worry and something like sadness.

Newt shakes his head, finally speaks.

“No. You didn’t do anything, Tommy.” He can hear the harshness in his voice, wishes he could reign it in. But there is so much in him that is threatening to explode, a year’s worth of stress and hiding and denying that has to come out, has to be let go.

“Then can you explain what the problem is? Why you’ve been AWOL the last week?”

“Look, the problem is…” _Here we go._ “I can’t be your friend anymore. Okay?”

A look of hurt flashes across Thomas’ face. He furrows his brows. “Wh-why not? What do you mean?”

“I just can’t be your friend, alright!”

“Newt, I don’t understand. Did I do something to make you mad?”

“No, you didn’t, I...look, I just can’t be your friend. I can’t be your friend anymore, Tommy.”

Thomas’ voice sounds desperate, and he takes another step closer. Newt fights the urge to turn and run.

“What do you mean?”

Newt gives a humorless laugh. “Are you really gonna make me spell it out for you? As if it wasn’t bloody obvious from the beginning?”

“Newt, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. Just forget it, alright?”

“No, Newt, I don’t want to ‘just forget it.’ I don’t want you to be mad at me and I don’t want...I don’t want to lose you. So please, Newt, just expla-”

“There’s nothing to explain, Tommy. Forget it. Just...just go back to Teresa or whoever. Don’t worry about me.”

Newt’s heart breaks as he says all of this; the look on Thomas’ face is pure hurt and confusion, like when someone leaves the house and their dog is sitting by the door, alone and confused.

Thomas furrows his brow. “Teresa? What does she have to do with this?”

Newt scoffs. “Everything, in hindsight.” _Shouldn’t have brought her up I can see where this is going I know how this will end I can’t do this I can’t tell him I-_

“What, did she say something to you?” Thomas sounds slightly angry.

“Nope. Hasn’t said a word.”

“Then what is it?” Thomas asks.

Newt knows Thomas could stay here and interrogate him all night, running in circles, answering and avoiding the same damn questions. He can feel the patience in him starting to break, the cracks forming. If he doesn’t manage to get out of here soon, he’s going to tell Thomas everything. Because even now, with Thomas asking 50 questions a minute, all Newt wants to do is kiss him, tell him how he much he loves him, be able to have a real, honest to God _relationship_ with him.

And he can’t hold it back much longer.

“It’s nothing, really.” _The cracks are growing._

Thomas takes a few steps closer; there’s only a few feet between them, now.

“No, it’s something. Do you...do you like her? Is that it?”

Newt’s surprised by the question. He’s never mentioned any interest in Teresa, or girls, for that matter.

“What? No, I don’t like her.”

“You can say if you do. It’s okay. I won’t be mad.”

“Jesus Chri-no, I don’t like her. Alright?”

Thomas steps right in front of Newt, barely any room between them. His face is filled with worry and frustration.

“Then please, Newt, could you just tell me what the problem is?!”

“It’s nothing! I’m fine! Alright?” _The cracks are growing the cracks are growing_

“No, it’s clearly NOT alright because suddenly I can’t be your friend, and you won’t even say why.” Thomas taps his foot, and he takes a deep breath.

“Don’t worry about it, alright?” _I can’t do this I can’t do this he’s right here I can’t do this anymore I can’t-_

“No, I _am_ going to worry about it, okay? Because I care about you, and you’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you! So what is wrong? Please!”

“What’s wrong? You wanna know what’s wrong? Honestly?” Newt’s voice is filled with anger and frustration.

“Yes!” Thomas spreads out his arms, equally frustrated.

“What’s wrong is that I don’t want to be JUST your best friend, okay? I want to be MORE than that. And I love you, and that’s what’s wrong.”

_Earthquake. Houston, there’s a fissure._

Newt barely gives Thomas time to respond; a million emotions flash across his face; confusion, surprise, uncertainty.

“I know. It’s bloody stupid, right? I told you myself; high school relationships don’t last, teenagers don’t fall in love. Yet here I am. Bloody pathetic.”

His voice is filled with anger, and his chest feels like it’s going to explode, his hands shaking at a mile a minute. He can’t take this back. Not one word. Everything he had built up with Thomas, their whole friendship, has just shattered.

“I just...I couldn’t do it anymore. You talk about Teresa all the time. How happy you two were when you dated, how happy you are now. And seeing that...seeing that I couldn’t have that, that I couldn’t be with you the way I wanted to. I just couldn’t do it anymore. And I’m sorry.”

Thomas stays silent, his face still a mix of emotions, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything, I’ve ruined everything, I know…” His voice is softer, now, and all he wants to do is run, get out of here, leave Thomas behind to laugh and tell his friends that Newt just told him he loved him, how stupid, how silly. “Look, I should go.”

Newt turns and starts walking, setting a brisk pace out of the park, determined to get to anywhere but here. He’s decided to never come back to this park again. This lousy park that started it all.

There’s a few feet of silence before he hears Thomas call out.

“Newt! Wait!”

“Forget it, Tommy,” he says over his shoulder. “I don’t need your pity.”

He can hear footsteps coming up behind him. He speeds up.

“No, Newt, I’m not pitying you, I want-”

“Look, whatever you say is just gonna make it worse. It’s better if I just leave.” _Please stop please stop please just turn around please don’t make this worse for me please-_

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Well, I am.”

He keeps walking, trying his best to keep his pace, when Thomas catches up to him, grabs his arm and turns him around.

Newt stops, waiting for Thomas to say something, to yell at him, to give the “we can still be friends” speech. His adrenaline is absolutely racing, his heart pumping loudly in his chest, his muscles ready to spring and pounce. His hands shake with nervousness; his entire body is yelling _run boy run, don’t let him get you_.

Thomas stands there, his chest going with fast and heavy breaths. He bounces on his heels slightly, quickly, and his face is contemplative, questioning. He is so close to Newt, so close, and Newt can feel the electricity and energy between them, practically humming in the air, making Newt’s hair stand on point and goosebumps trail down his arms. His heart threatens to burst. He knows it’s only been about 3 seconds, but time feels like it’s going in slow motion.

Thomas starts looking all over Newt’s face, to his eyes to his cheeks to his lips, the entire time his breaths coming quickly and tapping his foot. He locks eyes with Newt, settles his features, and moves in towards Newt, cupping his face in his hand and kisses him, almost urgently, as if he needed to do it in that one moment or it would never happen.

Newt is startled by the action, but his lips start moving against Thomas’ instantly, the two kissing each other enthusiastically, almost hungrily, as if they were making up for lost time. Thomas’ hand finds Newt’s waist and pulls him in closer, Newt trailing his hand along the back of Thomas’ neck, angling his head and running his fingers through his hair, his other hand moving along Thomas’ side, and endless rhythm of up and down. They don’t kiss like it’s their first time doing it; they kiss as if they have been doing it for ages, like they were a couple long together that had just been reunited after being separated for years.

There’s a sort of quiet desperation in these kisses, an urgency of kisses held back, of months of waiting and wishing and wilting. Their hands constantly moving, rubbing along arms and backs and hips and necks and everything, clutching at shirts and sliding down shoulders. Newt melts into Thomas, memorizes the feeling of his lips against his own, his heart racing and his mind whirling and he is flying, he is soaring through this night sky, he is weaving through the stars and he is not coming back.

Their eyes are closed, but he is seeing stars, all of the stars that he sees in Thomas’ eyes when he talks about the latest mystery novel or in his smile when he laughs at Newt complaining about losing at Smash _again_. His head feels fuzzy; the air is tingly around them. His whole body feels like when you get the feeling back in your arm or your foot. All tingling and alive, every sensation buzzing at once, coming awake. Thomas makes him drunk, wakes him up, makes him laugh, makes him nervous, makes him shiver. Makes him feel happy. Complete.

They finally pull back for air, both of them breathing light and quickly, and rest their foreheads against each other. Newt feels positively _drunk_ , and he’s partly convinced that none of this is actually happening, that it’s just a dream. _God, don’t let me wake up._

They stand there for a moment, foreheads pressed, Thomas holding Newt by the hips, never tearing his eyes from Newt’s lips, not once.

“Do you know…” Thomas started, his voice slightly hoarse. “how long I’ve been wanting to do that?”

Newt can barely find the ways to speak. “No.”

“For a really long time, Newt. Since that first time I saw you draw. When you were biting your lips. I wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you. But I was scared.”

“Why would you be scared?”

“I don’t know. I was just afraid.”

Newt stays silent, just closes his eyes, breathes in the scent of Thomas, relishing in this closeness, still trying to convince himself that this is all real.

“You know, I almost kissed you on New Year’s,” Thomas adds.

Newt smiles. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I was drunk and you were there and I thought, ‘hey, maybe I could kiss him now, maybe he wouldn’t mind.’ But I didn’t. And I should have.”

Newt sighs. “Yes. You should have. I would have let you. Any time you wanted.”

Thomas laughs softly. “I know. I’m sorry.”

As if to apologize some more, he lowers and places a soft kiss on Newt, slowly and gently and patiently and _god, please don’t let this be a dream_.

Newt smiles, then remembers how this all started.

“Wait, but what about…”

“Teresa?”

Newt swallows, terrified that by bringing her up, Thomas will snap out of his senses, go, _“Wait a minute, that was all a lie, I’m actually straight, see you later”_ and leave.

“That was never going to happen. I just needed something to distract myself. She knew that, I think.”

“Distract yourself from what?”

“You.”

“Oh.”

Thomas pulls away, then laces Newt’s fingers into his own. Newt tries not to tremble as Thomas starts leading them.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Newt asks, amused and dizzy and drunk on kisses.

“I don’t know. Wherever. Anywhere you want. I just want to be with you.”

He starts leading Newt away from the dog area of the park, towards a trail that bends and curves along, nothing but trees on either side. At first, neither of them say anything; Newt because he’s still taking in the entire situation. Thomas traces his thumb along Newt’s hand as he walks, the entire time with this almost shy smile on his face.

There are a million questions running through Newt’s mind. He barely knows how to begin.

“How did you know you would find me here?” He asks, almost in a whisper, a part of him terrified of saying the wrong thing and messing everything up.

Thomas turns so he’s facing Newt, but keeps walking the path backwards, like he has it memorized. They take slow, lingering steps.

“I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“But I came here. Every night. I don’t know why. I just had a gut feeling that you would show up. And you did.” He smiles again. “I’m glad you did. You have no idea how relieved I was when I saw you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that,” Newt apologizes. Thomas stops walking, their hands still laced together. “It was stupid of me to ignore you. And childish.”

“It was stupid of me to keep making you think I wanted to date Teresa.”

“Well, we were both stupid, then.”

Thomas gives a silly grin, then waits for a moment before leaning in to kiss Newt again, both of them smiling against the other’s lips. He pulls back, their noses brushing.

Thomas sighs, almost dreamily. “Man. That feels so nice.”

Newt laughs. “Glad to hear I’m doing nice for my first kisses.”

Thomas eyebrows raise. “Holy shit, I forgot. I’m your first kiss, right?”

Newt nods, accidentally rubbing their noses together in the process.

“You were the first. Gotta say, it was a solid introduction to the world of kissing. Nice first lesson.”

Thomas smirks at him. “Okay. Lesson number two.”

As suspected, he’s leaning in to kiss Newt again, working against his lips in soft, gentle strokes, a large contrast from how they were kissing before. Newt is in heaven.

He pulls back. “You’re a good teacher.”

“Thank you. You’re passing with flying colors.”

Newt chuckles as Thomas turns again, leading Newt further down the path. They don’t say much, but every now and then Thomas will just stop and kiss Newt, or stop and make him look at something, or stop and kiss Newt, or stop and kiss Newt…

Suddenly, as they’re walking, Newt’s thoughts trail off to school, which reminds him that tonight isn’t forever; there’s a tomorrow approaching. His smile fades, and the butterflies in his stomach turn to a queasy nervousness.

“So, Tommy…” He starts, looking down at their still intertwined hands.

“Yeah?”

“Well, what...what happens now? Where do we go from here?”

“I told you already. Anywhere you want.”

“No, I don’t mean _today_. I mean...tomorrow. The day after that. The next week."

There’s still a part of him that refuses to believe any of this is real, that midnight will hit and suddenly _poof!_ Everything is back to normal, and Newt has to ride back in his pumpkin to his single, sad life.

“Well, I’m enjoying the whole hand-holding and kissing thing we have going on. I’d love to do more of that.”

“Oh, good. Me too.”

Thomas grins. “Okay. So I’ll go ahead and ask.”

“Ask what?”

Thomas takes the hand that he’s holding and balls it into a fist, placing it against his chest.

“Newt, will you do me the honor of going on a real, proper date with me? And I don’t mean like the day when I cut school and we went to the arcade and everything. Like, a real date. Where we hold hands. And I buy you stupid shit. And I give you a goodnight kiss. A real date.”

Newt grins from ear to ear; never in a million years did he ever think he would hear Thomas ask him out on a date. Never. He used to think they would never see each other outside of this very park.

“Why, yes, Tommy. I would love to.”

Thomas’ grin widens, impossibly. His eyes manage to shine in the darkness.

“Good. Because I just...really want to be your boyfriend.” He says it like he’s lifting a weight off of his shoulders that he’s been carrying for years.

Newt can’t stop smiling; he’s cheeks hurt from it, but he doesn’t mind. He remembers a time where nothing could make him smile. Nothing. And now he doesn’t know how to stop.

Thomas seems to sense it, because it’s barely even a second before he’s kissing Newt again, guiding his head with his hand on his neck. Newt laughs and pulls back for a moment.

“Geez, Tommy. You’re barely giving me room to breathe here. I say one sentence and you’re back to kissing me again. Not that I’m complaining.”

Thomas shrugs. “Now that I know that I can kiss you…” He stops, his smile turning to seriousness. “I don’t see why I should ever stop.” He glances down at Newt’s lips once before meeting his gaze, his eyes stern.

That flips a switch in Newt. Suddenly, everything seems _real_ to him; Thomas wants to kiss Newt as much as Newt wants to kiss him. He doesn’t have to hold back, doesn’t have to be tentative, wait for Thomas to make a move. Thomas has made it clear what he’s feeling.

So, Newt acts on instinct. He takes Thomas by the hand, leads him over to the nearest tree, and leans him against it, and finally initiates a kiss of his own. He holds Thomas by the hips, Thomas wrapping his arms around Newt’s back, pulling him in close.

Newt recognizes that people who just started dating a few minutes ago probably don’t kiss like this; not with this kind of frequency and urgency.

But they have some catching up to do.

As they kiss, impossibly, Newt’s thoughts manage to drift. _Boyfriend. My boyfriend. That sounds nice. Boyfriend. Thomas is my boyfriend. Mum is going to lose it._

The thought snaps Newt away from Thomas; he knits his eyebrows together in confusion and slight disappointment.

“What is it?”

“Well...you act like it’s so simple. Me being your boyfriend. Us dating.”

“It _is_ simple. We go on a date. We kiss. We’re dating.”

‘I get that, but...there’s more to it than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it. Me. Your boyfriend. You, also a boy. Ya see where I’m going with this?”

“Yes, we’re both boys. And?”

“Aren’t you nervous?” Newt murmurs, tracing his thumb along Thomas’ side. “About what your mum will think? Your friends? People at school? Aren’t you worried about what they’ll think? I mean, it’s a bit of a news flash.”

Thomas looks off, considers it.

“A little bit. But I mean, it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise. Everyone assumed we were dating anyway.”

Newt gives a small laugh. “That’s true.”

“Besides, I seem to have a knack for liking more than one thing. I used to love cats, but now I also love dogs. I like blondes and I like brunettes. I like girls...and I like boys.”

He stops and take a moment to unapologetically check Newt out, his eyes lingering as they travel along his body, down and back up.

He smirks. “Yeah. Definitely boys.”

Newt grins at that, but knows he has to bring it back to a definite answer.

“So, you’re not worried? You’re not afraid that people will look at you differently?”

“Are you?”

Newt thinks about it, shrugs it off.

“Not really. I think everyone I’ve ever met kind of assumed I was gay. They’re right, of course. So I doubt it will be a shock to anyone.”

Thomas nods.

“Tommy. I need to know. Are you comfortable with this? Because if you’re not-”

“I am,” Thomas interrupts. “I’m comfortable. And yeah, I’m a little nervous. A little scared. I’ve thought about liking boys for a little while now, but I never really paid much attention to it. Not until you. So yeah, coming out as bisexual is going to be a little weird for me. But...it feels right. And besides, I don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks of me, or us, just because we’re both guys. All I care about is being with you. That’s it. Just you, and fuck the rest.” Thomas’ eyes are intense as he says this, filled with a determination and fierceness that strikes Newt.

More than anything, they’re filled with bravery. Because Newt knows that coming to terms with your sexuality is a difficult process for a lot of people. He had known he was gay for about as long as he could remember; ever since he realized his “crushes” in school were never on the girls. So he accepted it, within himself. He hadn’t told anyone, but he knew.

It’s more recent for Thomas, more sudden. It takes a lot of bravery to embrace it fully and come out to those you love and care about. It reminds Newt why he’s in love with him.

“In fact,” Thomas continues, pulling away from the tree. “I’m going to go home right now and tell my mom. She deserves to know first.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Newt asks as they walk back to the main street.

Thomas shakes his head. “No. I have to do this myself.”

“Okay.” Newt is silent for a moment before he says, “I’m proud of you. Takes a lot of guts to do what you’re doin’.”

Thomas swallows. “I know. Thank you.”

They walk for another minute in silence, Newt enjoying the simple presence of being with Thomas, of holding his hand, something he thought he would only ever get to dream of doing.

“So, when’s our hot date going to be?” Newt teases, bumping his shoulder into Thomas’.

Thomas smiles at the ground. “I’ll come over tomorrow and let you know. I want to talk to your parents first.”

“You know they’re gonna squeeze you half to death, right?”

Thomas smile grows wider. “I’m looking forward to it.”

They head back to Newt’s house, hesitating once they reach the driveway. Newt sees that his parents came home in the time he was gone.

Thomas turns, fiddling with Newt’s fingers in his hand, his tone suddenly somber.

“I didn’t say it, you know.”

“Say what?” Newt asks, confused.

“That I loved you.” Thomas looks up, matches Newt’s gaze. “You said you loved me, and I didn’t say anything.”

Newt’s chest lurches. “That’s right.”

“Well I do, you know. Love you. I do. I love you.”

Newt doesn’t say anything, startled by actually hearing Thomas say those words. Thomas continues.

“I probably should have said it right after I kissed you. I was a little caught up in the moment.”

“That’s alright,” Newt practically whispers.

Thomas nods. “Okay. Good. I’m glad you changed your mind about the whole high school love thing.”

Newt shrugs. “I don’t know if I ever really believed it.”

Thomas smiles, squeezes his hand. “Okay. I’m gonna get home before my mom starts worrying. Good luck with your parents, although you don’t need it.”

Newt chuckles. “I really don’t. But let me know how it goes with your mum, yeah? I’m sure she’ll be happy for you.”

Thomas sighs. “I hope so.” He gives Newt one sweet, goodnight kiss, then starts walking backwards out of the driveway. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We have a first date waiting for us.”

Newt laughs. “Alright, Tommy. Tomorrow.”

Thomas is halfway across the road by now. “And I love you. Remember that.” He says it like it’s the most casual thing, like _“Of course I love you, is this even a question?”_

Before Newt can respond, Thomas sets off on a run down the road. Newt smiles to himself before turning and entering the house.

As soon as Newt opens the door, his parents are standing in the door to the kitchen expectantly.

“Newt. Where on Earth have you been?” his mother asks, her voice a mix of anger and concern.

Newt freezes, temporarily stunned by his parents’ disciplinary stance.

“I, um, went to the park.”

“The park?” his dad doubts. “At almost 11 at night?”

“...yeah.”

“Well what’s the point of going to the bloody park at 11?” his mom asks. “You weren’t...you weren’t buying drugs, were you? I’ve heard shady things happen there at night.”

Newt holds back a laugh. “No, mum. I just wanted to clear my head. Get some fresh air.”

“You were getting some ‘fresh air’ for an hour,” his dad adds, using air quotes. “What really happened, Newt? Be honest with us.”

“If there’s something wrong, we want to know,” his mother comments, her voice gentler.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Newt assures them. _For once._

“Then what bloody happened?” his father asks.

Newt takes a deep breath. “Well, you guys know that I haven’t really been talking to Tommy the last week.”

“Yeah. You never explained why.”

Newt shrugs. “I was just mad at him. He didn’t do anything wrong, really. I was just bein’ childish.”

“Alright. Go on.”

“So I went to the park to clear my head, and he was there, too. We ended up talking, and it got a little heated, and then…”

“What happened? Did you two...fight? Did he hurt you?”

“What? No.”

“Then what is it?”

“And then, um...well, I said...I told him that…”

“Spit it out, honey!” his mom exclaims.

Newt spits it out all at once.

“ItoldhimthatIlikedhimandthenhekissedmeandnowwe’redatingIthink.”

His parents pause, just blinking, trying to decipher what he just said.

“Wait. Repeat?” his dad says.

“I told him I liked him. We kissed. And now I think we’re dating.”

There’s a few seconds of silence before both of their faces light up with joy, the happiest Newt has seen either of them in a while.

“Newty! Oh my goodness!” his mother cries, throwing her arms around Newt. Newt laughs as he returns the hug. “Oh, I knew you two would end up together someday! It was just a matter of time! Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

His dad comes over and rubs his back, his mom still squeezing him. “I’m happy for you, Newt. I always knew Thomas would make a lovely boyfriend.”

“So, um, can this be my official coming out party?” Newt asks over his mom’s shoulder. “I mean, I know dating a guy is sort of evidence enough but I haven’t exactly said anything to you directly.”

His mother pulls back, holds him by the shoulders. She wears a proud smile.

“I think we know. But go ahead, love.”

“Okay. Mum, dad. I’m gay.”

Even though Newt has suspected (and they sometimes outright said) that his parents knew all along, it feels good to finally say the words, lift the burden off of his chest. He’s never really confessed it before. He brought it up with Thomas, but this felt different. It felt like a true declaration to those he cared about the most.

His mom gives a happy sort of pout before pulling him back into a hug, his dad joining them this time.

“That’s great, honey. I’m glad you’ve said it. And you already know that we support you no matter who you love. And we’ll always love you.”

Newt’s chest swells with happiness. He already knew his parents would support him; they had said it multiple times leading up to this point. But now that he’s said it, and he has his family here embracing him, he feels so grateful and compassionate for his family that he thinks he might burst.

There’s a tiny bit of guilt in him, too, for when he tried to take himself away from this world, and away from them. But they’ve already forgiven him for that, so Newt resolves to try and forgive himself, too. It’s what they would want.

They finally pull back, look at him with beaming smiles.

“It’s a bit late now, so we’ll celebrate tomorrow. We’ll make you your favorite dinner, have a whole night just for you. What do you say?”

Newt grins. “Actually, I can’t. Me and Tommy have our first date tomorrow.”

His dad raises his eyebrows. “First date? My, you two sure move fast.”

“Dad, we’ve known each other since September. I think eight months is not that fast.”

“Ah, I’m just teasing, Newty,” he laughs, clapping Newt on the back. “Speaking of Thomas, when do we get to see the little bugger? Is he coming over?”

“He just left, actually. He’s going to tell his mum. You know. Come out.”

“Oh. Is he gay, too?” his mom asks.

“No. He’s bisexual.”

“Oh, alright. Well, I’m sure his mum will support him no matter what. And if she doesn’t, tell him there’s always a safe spot for him here. He practically lives here already, anyway.”

Newt smiles, once again grateful for his loving parents.

“I will. Thanks again, mum. Dad. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

They pull him into another hug, his mom rubbing his head lovingly.

“You don’t ever have to worry about that, love. We’re always here. You know that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you happy. are you happy now


	26. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Thomas finally go on a proper date! Hopefully everything goes well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for not updating in almost a week; this wasn't to build suspense or anything, I've literally just been busy with college work. But I wanted to thank everyone again for their support and comments, it means a lot! Also, as a disclaimer; I am not gay. I'm not bi, queer, pan, etc. I'm straight. I've never had to "come out" to anyone, so I honestly can't know what it is like. I know it's an individual experience, and that it doesn't just happen once, but I'm not going to claim to know what this experience is like. So if you find that somehow I'm being offensive, or if I'm inaccurately representing something, please let me know! I try to be as respectful as possible. And to thank you all for understanding and waiting, I tried to make this chapter a little longer. Enjoy!

The next day, a Saturday, Thomas shows up around 2:00. Newt has been waiting patiently all day, Thomas not giving him many details. He texted him a few times last night.

_T: Made it home. My mom is still awake. I’m really scared._

_N: You can do this, Tommy. Just be strong. You always are._

_T: Okay. Man, I really do love you. I’m gonna say that a lot._

_T: Alright. I’m going. I’ll text you when it’s done._

Newt waits for another hour without a response, then two. He stays up, clutching his phone like a lifeline, too worried and anxious about Thomas to even attempt sleep.

Finally, at almost 1 in the morning, he gets a text.

_T: It’s done._

_N: Well? How did it go?_

_T: I’ll tell you tomorrow. Makes more sense to do it in person._

_N: Well was it good, at least?? Bad??_

But Thomas doesn’t answer after that. It leaves Newt with a pit of worry in his stomach that he can’t seem to shake. It takes him another two hours to fall asleep.

So when Newt hears a knock at the door, he bursts up from the couch at lightning speed.

“I got it!” he yells to his parents, who are currently making some cookies in the kitchen.

Newt throws open the door, relieved when he sees Thomas, looking okay. Like nothing too traumatic happened to him.

But he can’t be certain until Thomas tells him for sure.

“Hey,” Thomas greets, a slight sheepishness to his voice.

“Hi,” Newt answers, paused at the door. He’s not sure how to proceed from this point. This is the first time Thomas has been to the house since they started dating; how was he supposed to proceed? Kiss him? Hug him? Do nothing?

There was a strange vibe between them, now; not unpleasant, just curious, trying to transition their way from best friends to boyfriends. It was an odd thing to do. Newt hoped they would still act like best friends, anyway. Just best friends who also make out every now and then.

Luckily, before Newt can decide on a greeting, his parents come out from the kitchen.

“Thomas! We heard you finally laid one on him! Good job!” his mother yells happily.

Newt’s face burns red. He forgot how embarrassing his parents could be. Now that they were actually dating, it could only get worse.

Thomas laughs as he enters the house, used to their eccentric behavior by now.

“Uh, yeah. I did. If that’s, like...okay? Am I a worthy candidate to date your son?”

Newt’s dad flashes him a huge grin. “Of course, Thomas. We’ve thought you would be a good boy for our Newty since the beginning. Isn’t that right, Newt?”

“You did, dad. You really, really did.”

“Well that’s good,” Thomas breathes a sigh of relief. “Glad I’ve proven my worth.”

“Naturally, Tommy,” his mom assures, looking at Newt for a sort of approval after using the nickname. Newt just smiles at her, and she gives a sincere grin back.

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore. Your mum. How was she? What happened? Is everything okay?” Newt asks, hearing the concern in his own voice. He takes one of Thomas’ hands in his own, squeezes it tightly.

Thomas’ smile fades, and Newt’s heart falters.

“Well, I started by asking if she remembered you. She said ‘yes, of course, why’, and then I explained that I had just been with you at the park and that I had a crush on you for a pretty long time and that we finally started dating.”

“And?”

“She was silent for a minute after that. So I explained how I had been attracted to boys for a while, but I never really did anything about it or put any thought into it. I just kind of pushed it aside until you came along. Then I couldn’t deny it anymore. I told her I was bisexual.”

“What did she say? Was she mad?”

Thomas looks down. “At first, she was a little confused. Kind of upset, I think. Because we were raised Catholic. And you know what they say in the Bible about man lying down with man, or whatever.”

Newt scoffs. “Of course.” He rubs a thumb over Thomas’ hand as he talks.

“So we just talked for an hour. I explained to her that God or Jesus or whoever didn’t have a say in who I wanted to love. That I wasn’t going to stop being with you because some old book thinks being attracted to the same gender is wrong. That if she really loved me, she would accept me for who I am, regardless of who I was dating, boy or girl.”

“Good. I’m proud of you. It’s really brave of you, you know?” Newt gives his hand another squeeze. His parents look on patiently.

Thomas gives a small smile. “Thanks. I was freaking terrified the whole time. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. But I just thought of how you told me to be strong. It helped me get through it.”

Newt gives a sincere grin. “I’m glad.”

They smile at each other for a moment before Thomas continues.

“So I finish my little speech, and for a moment it looks like she’s about to yell at me, or disown me, or hit me. I was already getting ready to pack my bags and head out.” He pauses, the start of tears building in his eyes. “But then she said...she said that I was her son. That I was her son, and that she always loved me, and she always would love me. That she was proud of me. And even though she was raised to think otherwise, she could push that aside. Because I meant more than that.”

The tears silently fall down his cheeks, and his voice catches a few times as he speaks, but he maintains most of his composure.

“And then she just held me, and kept telling me she loved me. And I was just so relieved. Because I know not everyone gets that. Not everyone gets parents who will love them and support them no matter what. Like my mom. Like you guys.” He turns to Newt’s parents when he says that.

“I’m so happy for you, Tommy,” his mom smiles, rubbing his arm. “I knew she would come ‘round. Good mums always do.”

Thomas sniffs, giving her a huge smile. “Thanks, Linda.”

Newt pulls Thomas into a hug, then, not caring whether his parents are there or not. Knowing that his mom accepted him and that everything was okay lifted the weight of the world off of Newt’s shoulders.

Newt rubs Thomas’ hair as he speaks, his mouth pressed against his cheek, a murmur in his ear.

“I’m really proud of you, Tommy. I told you that you were strong. And you did it.”

Thomas gives another sniff, squeezes Newt tighter. “I know. Thank you.”

They pull apart, beaming at each other for a moment.

“Now it’s just all of our friends and school,” Newt jokes.

“Eh, I don’t care about them. They can think what they want.” Thomas smiles.

His mother grins at them. “So, where is this first date of yours going to be?” she asks.

Newt looks at Thomas, assuming he knows the answer, since he is the one who asked him out, after all.

Thomas beams, not tearing his eyes from Newt as he speaks.

“It’s gonna be a picnic. By this cool cliff that overlooks the whole town. I’ve brought him there before, but I think it’s a much better place for a date than a casual hang out.”

Newt smirks. “Agreed.”

“Well, if you’re doing a picnic…” his dad starts, moving to the kitchen. He comes back with a little plastic bag. “You’re gonna want some of the cookies we just made. Here.” He hands them over to Thomas, who takes them with a grateful smile.

“Thanks. I’m sure they’re amazing.”

His mom starts pushing them towards the door. “Now, get going! You two have waited long enough to finally start dating. Get to it!” She winks at Newt before tossing him his keys, closing the door as they stand on the porch.

“Alright, then,” Newt turns to Thomas. “So, do we have a basket?”

“Um, no. I don’t own one. I just figured we’d go out and buy a bunch of stuff.”

Newt laughs. “Sure. Sounds like a plan.”

***

Newt drives them out to the nearest grocery store, a small, lonely shop with many bored employees. They watch with slightly amused looks as Thomas heads up and down the aisles, choosing items seemingly at random and chucking them in the shopping basket, Newt following close behind with the same amused smile.

“Hmm, chips...Newt, you like barbecue the best, right?”

“Tommy, we’ve already got more than enough for a bloody picnic. I think we can check out now.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas asks, looking at Newt, his eyebrows scrunched in concern. “Because I don’t want you to not like what I chose. I want this date to go absolutely smoothly.”

Newt smiles. “The date is going to be just fine. It doesn’t matter where we go or what we do. As long as we’re together. That’s the whole point, after all.”

“I know, but...I guess I just want to make up for the time lost. For all of the times that I could have said something, but I didn’t. And especially for the last time we were at the cliff. I totally should have just kissed you, right there.”

“Quit your worryin’, Tommy,” Newt holds Thomas’ hand. “That doesn’t matter. We’re here now. Let’s just enjoy it, alright? Come on.”

He leads Thomas to the registers. Newt is stopped short when he sees Sonya working the register they’ve lined up on.

“Oh, shoot,” he mutters under his breath.

“What is it?” Thomas asks, trying to follow Newt’s gaze.

“It’s Sonya. I completely forgot she worked here.”

“Okay. So what’s the problem?”

“I mean, there isn’t one, technically. She’s one of those people who thought we were dating, anyway.”

“Well, then this should be fun,” Thomas replies with a smirk.

They finally reach the register; they give friendly hellos as they place their items on the conveyor belt.

Sonya doesn’t say much, at first -- she just scans the items as normal. Then she starts noticing what they’ve chosen. Some paper cups and forks, sparkling cider (nonalcoholic, to Thomas’ chagrin), a basket, bread and meats for sandwiches, a fruit salad, and, the topper that Thomas added in, a candle and lighter. She raises her eyebrows at that.

“You two going on a date?” she asks, looking at them expectantly. Newt almost laughs at how, just yesterday, this question would have made him grit his teeth.

Thomas beams a proud smile. “As a matter of fact, yes, we are. Thanks for asking.”

Sonya blinks, then laughs. “Wait, seriously? You’re actually doing it?”

“It’s true,” Newt adds.

“Holy shit, that’s awesome. I told you, Newt. I know these things.”

“You did tell me. I know.”

She finished scanning and bagging their items. When it comes time to pay, they look at each other awkwardly.

“Um…” Thomas starts.

“I’ll do it,” Newt offers. He gets out his debit card. “You know, for two kids with no jobs, we really need to start going out less.”

Thomas laughs. “Fine by me.”

They take their bags and leave, waving a friendly goodbye to Sonya as they go.

“Have fun on your date!” she calls as they walk away.

Thomas gives a knowing smile. “Don’t worry! We will!”

***

They head over to the cliff. It’s late afternoon by the time they get there, the peaceful mid-May breeze trailing along their skin. The weather is just right, not too hot or cold, and the sky is crystal clear.

 _So far so good,_ Newt thinks.

“Wait, shit,” Thomas curses as Newt shuts off the ignition.

“What is it?”

“I just realized we don’t have a blanket. Where the hell are we supposed to eat? Oh my god, I’m already messing it up.” He drags a hand across his face. “I blew it.”

“Relax, Tommy. I have a blanket in the trunk.”

Thomas pauses, his hand halfway down his face. “Why?”

“For stargazing.” Without delving further, Newt exits the car and pops open the trunk, pulling out the soft, plaid blanket he had used for stargazing the last couple of years. He lays it out on the ground as Thomas starts bringing out their basket and food.

They lay out the basket on the blanket, then sit down to set up. They make themselves some sandwiches and pour the non-alcoholic cider in their plastic cups. Thomas lights the candle they bought.

They eat for a bit like normal; their behavior is mainly the same as before, joking about school and friends and the trailer for the newest Marvel movie. Newt tries not to think about the fact that they haven’t kissed yet. Not since yesterday.

Suddenly, Thomas sighs as he looks down at the ensemble.

“This isn’t fancy enough, is it? I should have brought my mom’s wine glasses, or something.”

“Tommy. Relax. It’s just a picnic.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m just paranoid of doing something stupid and having you think I’m an idiot and not want to date me anymore.”

Newt scoots over so he’s sitting next to Thomas, laces their hands together.

“Tommy. Listen carefully. I mean this from the bottom of my heart.”

“Okay.”

“You do stupid things all the time. And you _are_ an idiot.”

Thomas blinks. “That’s not very heartwarming.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Oh.”

“What I was saying was, you _are_ an idiot. You make really dumb jokes and impulse decisions and sometimes you put your foot in your mouth when you don’t mean to.”

“Do I really?”

“Yes. But, I like your dumb jokes. I even like when you act on impulse. I think everything through. It’s nice to see someone just go with their gut feeling. Not overthink things. And everyone screws up sometimes. But that’s what I like about you. You screw up, you keep going. And you also make wonderful plans for dates. Like this wonderful picnic that is not at all fancy, but that…” he stops to plant a small kiss on Thomas’ cheek. “...is perfectly okay.”

Thomas gives a sincere smile, and his eyes fill up with gratitude. He pauses for a moment before speaking.

“...are you sure? Because we can try again if-”

Newt decides to shut Thomas up by kissing him, melting in the feeling of Thomas’ lips against his own. He wonders if he’ll ever grow tired of it.

He pulls back. “Stop. Just stop. Okay?” He gives Thomas a warm smile. Thomas returns the smile.

“Okay,” he says, practically sighing the word. They go back to eating, Newt staying by his spot at Thomas’ side. Thomas jokes a few times about Newt having some food on his lips, primarily as an excuse to kiss him again. Newt relishes every one.

Suddenly, Newt makes a decision. A decision that goes against everything he has said in the past 4 years of being a high school student.

“So,” he starts nonchalantly, chewing on his sandwich. “who did you want to share a limo with for prom?”

Thomas stops, looks up at Newt with a confused expression.

“Prom? You mean junior prom? I thought I told you I sold the tickets. Besides, I’d only go with you.”

Newt doesn’t answer, just waits for Thomas to figure it out. His eyebrows raise when he does, and his mouth gapes slightly.

“Wait. Did you mean _prom_? Like, _senior prom_? Like, I get you a corsage and we take the stupid pictures in your yard and I make you dance to shitty music? That prom?”

Newt smiles. “Well, yeah. Didn’t you say last time we were here that you wanted to go to prom _this year_? With a _senior_?”

“Well, I, yeah,” Thomas stammers in disbelief. “but you didn’t seem to realize I meant you. And you always said you didn’t want to go. I mean, you hate prom. The dancing, the music. You-you hate it."

“I still do. But I don’t hate you. And you really wanted to go. So there. I’ll buy the tickets on Monday. You can get your suit. Then we figure out who to share the limo with. And then you can make me dance to every shitty song you want. Good, that?”

Thomas doesn’t answer, looking at Newt with a mix of disbelief and awe. Suddenly, he’s grabbing Newt’s face and kissing the daylights out of him. Newt responds with enthusiasm, adjusting himself accordingly, laying his hands on Thomas’ hips, toying with the hem of his shirt. 

Thomas pulls away for a moment, looks up at Newt.

“You are honestly amazing,” he says, doing his annual routine of looking down between Newt’s lips and his eyes. Suddenly, he takes one arm and shoves some of the picnic scraps to the side, clearing out a space on the blanket, throwing off his glasses afterwards. He pulls Newt in again by the shirt and starts kissing him, slowly pulling him down. Newt gets the message and leans down until eventually Thomas’ back is flat on the ground, Newt propping himself up on his elbows.

Thomas’ hands slide down from Newt’s shirt to his sides, lying on the hem of his pants. Thomas’ hands start sliding their way up Newt’s shirt, Newt moving away from Thomas’ mouth and planting kisses at the corner of his mouth, on his cheek, on his jaw, to his neck. Thomas leans his head back and gives a soft sigh of approval, slightly tightening his grip on Newt’s side.

Newt has just started working on Thomas’ neck when Thomas starts to murmur.

“Newt.”

“Hmm?” Newt answers, his mouth pressed against his neck. He feels Thomas’ head turn to the right.

“Newt, I think…I think the blanket is on fire.”

Newt looks up. “What?”

Thomas looks back. “The blanket. I think it’s on fire.”

They look at each other for a moment, eyes locked in confusion. Suddenly, Newt snaps back to attention, turning towards the blanket. The candle they lit had been knocked over by Thomas, and the fire started spreading onto the blanket, growing slightly.

“Oh, shit!” Newt scrambles off of Thomas.

“Shit. Fuck. What do we do?” Thomas asks, his breathing heavy with panic.

Newt jumps forward and shakes the blanket up, moving it over and crumpling it, stomping on it to smother out the flames. It works, and the only remnants are a now spoiled collection of picnic food and a charred spot on the blanket.

Newt turns back to Thomas, who is still trying to catch his breath as he puts his glasses back on.

“Holy shit. You just like, smothered that thing. Like it was nothing. How are you so calm right now?”

Newt shrugs. “It was a small fire. Nothing too hard to handle.”

“Still. That was badass!”

“I guess. I still can’t believe you knocked over the candle.”

“Hey, in the moment, I wasn’t thinking.” Thomas defends himself.

“Yeah, I figured that out.”

Thomas pauses for a second, then slowly smirks.

“What?” Newt asks.

“Well, I guess you could say you were...too hot for this picnic.”

Newt stops, turns back to the car. “I’m leaving.”

Thomas runs forward.

“Waitwaitwait Newt-”

Newt turns around, puts his hands on Thomas’ hips.

“I’m kidding,” he grins, giving Thomas a quick kiss. “Now, come on. We might as well do something else now that our picnic is spoiled.”

***

They drive around for a half hour, debating on what they want to do. Thomas struggles to adjusts his plans now that he’s burned the plan they had in mind.

“We could go to a restaurant,” Newt suggests as they pass an Italian eatery.

“Didn’t you just say we had to stop spending money?”

“Okay. Then what can we do around here that’s free?”

Newt thinks about it as he drives, listing all of the places they could go around town -- all of which require money. He sighs and drums on the steering wheel.

“Honestly, I can’t think of anything. There’s not much to do around here, and whatever is actually available costs money.”

Thomas matches his sigh. “I guess we can just head back to your place.”

“Why don’t we go to your place for once? I’ve only been there once, and I think it would be nice to see your mum again.”

“She wants to see you, too. And she’s getting better, like I said. But there really isn’t much to do at my place."

“That’s true. I’ll talk her to when I drop you off. Back to mine, I guess.”

Newt turns the car around in a parking lot and brings it back to his house. He notices his parents are gone when he gets back. He has a flashback to when his mom called him while he was at the park with Thomas, terrified that he had run off to try and hurt himself. Now they feel comfortable leaving whenever, texting Newt occasionally to check in. It makes Newt smile to himself, reminds him how he’s getting better.

“What is it?” Thomas asks, noticing the smile.

Newt looks over at him, shakes his head as he turns off the car.

“Just thinking about how different everything is compared to a year ago. How I’ve changed. Gotten better.”

Thomas smiles and squeezes Newt’s hand. “You have. I mean, I wasn’t around when it was bad, but you seem really happy now. At least, I hope you are.”

“Don’t worry. I am.”

Thomas gives Newt a quick peck on the cheek, and Newt is reminded of how they were interrupted back at the cliff. He remembers how Thomas’ hands felt sliding up his shirt, how it felt to have his lips on his neck.

Sure, they _should_ be doing regular couple stuff. But they are teenagers, after all. And they still had a lot of catching up to do. Newt wanted to fast forward through all of the lost time. Thomas seemed to feel the same, kissing Newt at almost every chance he could find. Newt wasn’t complaining one bit.

Thomas pulls back, Newt giving him a sincere grin before exiting the car and heading into the house. Lola’s right at their feet once they come in, jumping on Thomas’ legs like the very first day they met. Just like then, Thomas bends down (though not nearly as much, since she’s grown so quickly) and rubs her head enthusiastically, laughing when she licks his nose.

“Hi, Lola. I know, I haven’t seen you a lot lately. I missed you, too.”

Newt watches his amusement as he reads the note his father left on the table near the door. _Out to do some shopping. Back by 6._

He looks back over at Lola, still affectionately jumping onto Thomas’ lap as if she were still a puppy.

“I forgot that it seems like she loves you more than me, sometimes,” Newt jokes.

“I’m sure she loves you just the same. She is your therapy dog, after all. It’s basically her job.”

“I suppose.”

“Hey, are all therapy dogs like this? I mean, her sash thing said she wasn’t supposed to be disturbed by people, and the first day we met she was bouncing all over me.”

“Nope. She’s one of a kind.”

“She sure is.” Thomas gives her one more friendly rub before standing back up. “So, what did you want to do?”

“We could watch a movie. And, you know, cuddle or something, so it’s like a date.”

Thomas nods slightly. “Maybe. We’ve technically already done that, remember?”

Newt reflects back on when they watched _The Amazing Spider-Man_ , Thomas’ head resting on his shoulder. He smiles at the memory.

“Oh, yeah. S’pose we have. Alright, what else could we do?”

“Um, we could play with Lola.”

“Well, if you’re going with the theme of things we’ve done already, I think that tops the list. Right after Smash Brothers.”

“True. Um…” Thomas pauses to think, then starts moving down to Newt’s room. “Let me see.”

“See what?” Newt asks, following him down the hallway.

“I don’t know. Something.”

Thomas stops when he gets to Newt’s room, starts looking around, eyeing everything from the posters on the walls to the drawers on his desk.

“Shit, we could…” Thomas starts, continuing his search. “I don’t know. We’ve literally done everything in this town and house that’s free. We should go get jobs. That’ll be our date.”

“That’s a really boring date.”

“Well, I’m running out of options!” Thomas exclaims, spreading his arms out.

Newt laughs. “Well, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t set the bloody blanket on fire.”

“Look, I was trying to be romantic and it made sense in the moment, alright? Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t think that was romantic as hell.”

There’s a pause, then, both of them acknowledging and again remembering how they were interrupted back at the cliff.

“Well, I mean. Yeah, you know, it was.” Newt suddenly feels oddly nervous.

Thomas looks towards Newt’s iPod set up in some speakers. He walks towards it and starts flipping through some playlists.

“Here. We can listen to music while we figure out what we want to do.”

“Alright.”

Newt takes a moment to study Thomas as he rifles through the playlist, his red shirt fitting snugly against his back, outlining his profile nicely. He starts walking over to Thomas as he finishes his selection, choosing a random indie playlist Newt made while he was bored one day.

He hasn’t turned around yet, so Newt stands behind him and slides his hands down to his hips, starts kissing Thomas’ neck where he left off before, right below his jawline. Thomas angles his head back slightly in response, leaning in to Newt’s touch.

“I still can’t believe you set the blanket on fire,” Newt murmurs in between kisses.

Thomas laughs as he rolls his head slightly, angling it for Newt. “In the moment, I didn’t even remember the candle was there.”

Newt pulls back from his jawline and starts placing kisses along the back of his neck, slowly lacing his fingers under Thomas’ shirt, sliding up slightly. Thomas gives another small sigh of approval as Newt works his way across to the other side of his neck.

“So, what did you…” Thomas starts, almost whispering. “...what did you want to do? I mean, we could...play Smash, or…”

Newt smiles against Thomas’ neck. “We do that all the time. I just said that.”

Thomas turns around and pulls Newt in by the shirt, connecting their lips with a deep kiss. He wraps his arms around Newt’s back, rubbing his hands along sporadically.

“We could…” Newt mutters between kisses. Their lips brush against each other patiently. “...read some comics? We haven’t done that in…” He gives up on the sentence and connects their lips again, sliding his hands another few inches up Thomas’ side, leaning him against the shelf. Thomas doesn’t even answer to the suggestion, just starts moving his kisses towards Newt’s own neck, his hands sliding back towards Newt’s chest. Newt takes a deep breath as he feels Thomas’ lips exploring his skin.

“What about your APs?” Newt asks, his eyes closed. “Don’t you need to...study, or…”

“Took them already,” Thomas utters against his neck. “Almost failed cause I was so worried about you. Also I didn’t study.” He moves slowly back up Newt’s neck.

“That’s sweet,” Newt sighs, barely listening to the words.

“Mhm,” Thomas mutters into his skin. Newt’s hands slide around to Thomas’ back, feeling the muscles he’s earned from track, tracing his fingers along the spine.

“We should…” Thomas mumbles, kissing the corner of Newt’s mouth. “Um…”

“Yeah?” Newt sighs.

“We should…” His mouth hesitates above Newt’s. He licks his lips before speaking. “Are your parents gonna be home? Like, soon?”

“Mhm,” Newt grumbles. “Within a half hour, I think.”

“Damn it,” Thomas curses, pulling back enough to look at Newt’s full face.

“Any suggestions?” Newt prompts.

Thomas eyebrows raise, and a smirk slowly emerges on his face.

“How about the drive-in? You said you would go with me. And you’ve never been. Plus, it’s fairly cheap.”

Newt scrunches his eyebrows. “But they’re showing that really crappy movie with the alien things.”

Thomas’ smirk widens. “Yeah.”

“Alright. Sure. The drive-in it is.”

***

They head out to the drive-in, not saying much on the way up. Newt’s heart races at the prospect of them actually having some quality time by themselves, without worrying about parents coming home or blankets being set ablaze.

They pay for their tickets separately, then start to explore the crowding lot for a spot.

“Um, go over there,” Thomas suggests, pointing to a spot at the corner of the lot, away from most of the cars. “We can, uh, see the screen better from over there. That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Oh, really?” Newt chuckles. “That’s what you’ve heard?”

“Yeah. It’s totally true. One hundred percent.”

They pull into the fairly secluded spot and park, Newt changing the radio station to the drive-in signal. Some generic ads play as they sit.

They don’t do anything while they wait for the movie to start; they just sit there, slightly awkwardly. They make a couple of jokes about the ads that play, but it’s mostly silent.

The movie finally starts. It’s not even a minute in before Thomas chimes up.

“You know, I also heard that the view is a lot better from the backseat.”

Newt turns to Thomas and raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a better, uh, angle. And perspective. Yeah. I’m gonna try it.” He gets out of the car and moves into the backseat. “Oh, yeah, it’s much better from back here. Really, you should see it.”

“Sure, Tommy. I’ll try it.”

Newt unbuckles and moves to the backseat as well, sliding in next to Thomas.

There’s about one second of nothing before they turn and look at each other. As soon as their eyes meet, Thomas grabs Newt by the side of his face and pulls him in, kissing him fervently and passionately. He uses his other hand to adjust Newt’s hip so he’s practically on top of him, then holds him by the back to pull him in close. Newt immediately starts sliding his hands up Thomas’ shirt, relishing in finally being able to hold and touch and kiss Thomas like this. Thomas gives a small sigh as he slides his hands down to the hem of Newt’s shirt, toying with the fabric.

They’re kissing almost like it’s in fast forward; their lips and tongues moving against each other urgently, as if the last eight months of pining and waiting have all been building up to them finally letting it out, being able to throw all of their hidden wants into these kisses. Newt quickly moves down again to the side of Thomas’ neck, not hesitating before he starts sucking at biting on the skin. He finishes one spot and moves on to the next, right where Thomas’ neck meets his shoulder, and when he starts to bite down it earns a slight hiss from Thomas, then a sigh. He tightens his grip on Newt’s shirt, bunching it up in his hand. He uses the other hand to toss his glasses to the front seat.

Thomas turns and starts to pull Newt down so they’re lying on the seat. Newt pulls down the collar of Thomas’ shirt before moving his lips down his neck and across his chest, on his collarbone, on his shoulder. Thomas fingers dig into Newt’s back slightly. Newt moves back up to Thomas’ lips, kissing them a few times before biting on his lower lip, slowly pulling back,which causes Thomas’ breath to hitch in his throat. Thomas starts sliding his tongue along Newt’s own as he rubs one hand through his hair, angling his head as he does so.

Newt doesn’t care how long it’s been since they officially started dating. He doesn’t care if it seems like they’re moving way too quickly. From the way Thomas is reacting right now, hissing and biting his lip with every move Newt makes, he clearly feels the same way.

He shifts his leg and feels something get pushed off the seat and thud to the floor. He turns to see his history textbook, the pages bent and sprawled against the car floor. His mind starts relaying back to Newt’s room earlier, when Thomas was talking about his APs.

_“Almost failed cause I was so worried about you. Also I didn’t study.”_

The flashback startles him, and he sits up, propped on his knees.

“Wait a minute. You didn’t study for your AP exams?”

Thomas blinks, his chest moving with deep breaths. “I-uh...well, no. I didn’t. Does that really matter now?”

Newt scoffs. “Yes, it matters! Goodness, Tommy. Do you _want_ to end up in community college like me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with going to community college.”

“I know, just-look, I just want to make sure you don’t blow your chances of getting into a great college, alright? I don’t want you to regret not studying because you were bloody worried about me.” Newt shifts off of Thomas and sits, looking down at his feet.

“How could I not be worried?” Thomas asks, sitting up. He flinches slightly when he gets upright and adjusts. “I mean, Jesus, you went AWOL on me. And I had no idea where you were, if you were okay. The APs weren’t really important to me anymore. You were. I was worried sick.”

“I know,” Newt mutters.

Thomas sighs, scratches his neck. “Look, I’ve only taken two of them, and they were the easiest. I still have another two to go. I’ll study for those. Okay?”

Newt gives a small laugh. “You don’t have to ask me for approval, I’m not your buggin’ mother.”

“Well, no, but you are my boyfriend. I don’t want you to be worried about me studying.”

Newt smiles when Thomas says my boyfriend; it sounds nice coming out of his lips.

“Alright. I won’t be. Promise.”

“Good,” Thomas grins. “So, I have to ask. What do you think of our first date so far, huh? Am I doing a good job?” He picks up his glasses from the front.

“Hmm, I don’t know. You _did_ set my stargazing blanket on fire.”

Thomas’ mouth gapes. “I said I was sorry! You’re never going to let this go.”

“Tommy, I’ll be tellin’ everyone that story until the day I die. You are too priceless.” Newt chuckles.

“I was trying to be romantic,” Thomas grumbles, folding his arms.

Newt laughs. “And you were.” He gives Thomas a quick peck on the cheek. “Now, you wanna try and actually _watch_ the bloody movie?”

Thomas smirks. “Eh.” He adjusts so his head is on Newt’s shoulder, snuggling in close. “I guess.”

Newt laces his hand through Thomas’ as he sits, trying to figure out what’s going on in the movie that they missed.

They watch the rest of the movie like this; their hands laced together on Newt’s lap, Newt’s shoulder shaking every time Thomas laughs. Newt turns every now and then to kiss the top of Thomas’ head, or just brush his nose in his hair, smiling even though Thomas can’t see him. He silently thanks the stars.

Thomas contently sighs as the credits roll. “This was nice. This is nice. I like this. And I like you. I really like you. Have I told you that already?”

Newt chuckles. “A couple of times.”

“I’m just gonna keep telling you. I gotta let it out to make up for all the times I wanted to before.”

“Like when?”

Thomas sits up and shrugs. “I don’t know. All the time. When you were drawing on my hand. When we were eating with your parents. When you beat me at Smash and did that stupid victory laugh. All the time. So I’m gonna make up for it. You better start getting used to it.”

Newt just smiles, thanking the stars, thanking any higher power out there.

“Don’t worry. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of it.”

“Good. Because I really like you.” He gives a quick hum, looking at Newt with admiration. “You’re just so cute. You really are.”

Newt giggles and blushes. He feels like a little kid. He wonders, if they get to the point in their relationship when they’re so used to each other it’s like they’re married, if he’ll still feel this way whenever Thomas says he’s cute. He thinks he will.

“See?” Thomas continues. “Like that.”

Newt gives Thomas a playful slap on the arm. “Hey, I’m not cute. I’m extremely manly.”

Thomas scoffs. “Shut up.”

He leans in and gives Newt another kiss, long and slow, and Newt melts into it, treasures it, memorizes it. He’s still partly believing this is all an elaborate dream, like The Wizard of Oz.

Newt pulls away from the kiss smiling. “Alright, Tommy, come on. The cars are heading out, we have to go.”

Thomas pouts. “Fine. Let’s go.”

***

Newt drops him off at his house, having a quick chat with his mother before leaving. Like Thomas said, she seems better; there’s more color to her face, her hair seems healthier, her clothes aren’t as disheveled. The house is a little cleaner.

There’s a slight awkwardness when Newt enters; he imagines it’s a little odd for a faithful Christian mother who recently accepted her son as bisexual to now meet his gay boyfriend. Well, they met already, but this was different.

“I don’t know if you remember me, but-” Newt started when he walked in, holding out his hand.

“Of course I remember you,” she interrupted, grabbing his hand with both of hers instead of shaking it. “You’re the first visitor we’ve had here in years. It’s hard to forget that. Plus, Thomas talks about you all the time.”

Newt looks over at Thomas and smirks; it’s not the first time he’s heard that. Thomas just laughs it off.

“You should be used to that by now,” Thomas jokes.

They talk for another few minutes, polite small talk about graduating and community college and his art. She asks what his major is.

“I’ve actually been looking into Art Therapy,” Newt answers.

Thomas’ eyebrows raise.

“You didn’t tell me that,” he mentions.

Newt shrugs. “I hadn’t really decided yet. But it seems like somethin’ I’d want to do. Help people with mental illness get better through art. It’s helped me a whole lot. I think I could do some good.”

Thomas gives Newt a proud smile, his eyes shining.

“That’s wonderful, Newt,” Thomas’ mother compliments. “That sounds like a lovely idea.”

Newt gives a sincere grin, then feels the buzz in his pocket.

“I should get going,” he says.

“I’ll walk you out,” Thomas offers.

They stand out on the porch, the front door shut. They stand there for a moment, Thomas standing there slightly awkwardly, his hands in his jean pockets.

“Okay,” Thomas finally starts. “I need to ask. Was this a good first date? I mean, I’ve done first dates before, but I really wanted this one to go well. Did it? Please say yes.”

Newt grins from ear to ear, stepping forward and pulling Thomas’ hands out of his pockets, lacing them together.

“Yes, Tommy, it was an excellent first date. Even if you set my blanket on fire.”

Thomas’ mouth gapes again. “ONE TIME. I accidentally set your blanket on fire ONE TIME-”

Newt cuts him off with a laugh. “Relax, Tommy. I don’t care about the bloody blanket.”

Thomas stops, his face laced with confusion. “You don’t?”

“Nope. I just care about being with you. That’s all.”


	27. It Was Always You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Thomas go to school as a couple for the first time. Trigger warning for slurs.

Newt drives Thomas to school the next day; oddly enough, it’s the first time he’s done it the entire year. He wonders why Thomas never asked before.

Newt drives with one hand, the other laced with Thomas’ as they go along the back roads. He can’t help but have a smile on his face as he drives, growing even wider each time Thomas squeezes his hand or rubs his thumb along his palm. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to this. This kind of closeness, this _requited_ love. He wonders how long it will take before this becomes commonplace.

“I just realized something,” Thomas comments, looking out the open window, the breeze ruffling his hair.

“What is it?” Newt asks, lowering the radio.

“We haven’t gone to school as a couple yet. I mean, how many people actually know? Have you told anyone?”

Newt thinks for a minute. “Um...no. I’ve been with you the whole weekend. Haven’t really had the chance.”

“Yeah. Same here.” Thomas puffs out a nervous breath. “Do you think they’ll...take it well?”

“Tommy, do you forget that all of our friends either thought we were dating or wanted us to?”

“But what if they were joking? I mean, guys make gay jokes all the time.” He pauses for a moment before adding “I used to.”

Newt takes a quick peek over at Thomas; he’s looking down, his features laced with shame.

“S’alright, Tommy. You don’t now. That’s what matters. And if our friends were joking, and they really aren’t okay with this, then we know they never were our friends to begin with.” He gives Thomas’ hand a squeeze to try and reassure him. Thomas squeezes his hand back.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

“Good. I’ll be right there with you.”

There’s another minute of silence before Thomas speaks up again.

“There is, um...one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“Well, both of us haven’t told anyone, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that, uh...includes Teresa.”

Newt blinks. “Wait, so she still thinks you’re dating?”

“No, we were never dating. Just...fooling around? I guess?”

“Okay, so she still thinks you guys are fooling around.”

“Maybe. But she won’t after today. I promise.”

“I believe you, Tommy.”

They finish their drive in silence, listening to the various songs that come up on the radio, Thomas humming quietly to some. Newt pulls into the parking lot.

He starts walking ahead, then stops when he sees Thomas is staying back.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, I just…” Thomas starts. “How do we go about this? Like, do we make an announcement? Make out at lunch? Wear some couple shirts? What do we do?”

Newt can’t help but laugh, holding his gut with one hand.

“I’m serious!” Thomas exclaims. “Normally people just, like, put it on Facebook or a rumor starts. I don’t know how this is supposed to work!”

Newt laughs again, moving over to Thomas. He slides their hands together.

“Why don’t we start with this?” he suggests with a smirk. “I think they’ll get the message pretty well.”

Thomas nods and swallows, giving a small smile as he looks down at their hands.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’ll work.”

“Alright. Let’s get going.”

They start walking to the doors, their hands interlocked. Newt feels slightly nervous, his heart fluttering lightly in his chest. But mostly, he feels proud. Happy that he can walk down the halls, holding hands with his boyfriend. Yeah, his boyfriend. With Tommy. And he doesn’t care who knows, who sees, what they think. None of that matters.

They get a few looks from people as they walk; no one that Newt knows either at all or well enough for it to matter. He can’t tell if any of them know Thomas.

They glance at their hands, then back up to them as they walk. Some girls smile when they see it. Some guys raise their eyebrows. Most don’t say anything.

Newt looks over at Thomas, sensing the nerves flowing through him. His muscles seem tense, and his eyes dart around at everyone they pass. Newt pulls him against some lockers, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “You seem really nervous.”

Thomas nods. “I am. I didn’t think I would be. I don’t know why I am.”

“It’s a big thing,” Newt assures. “s’alright to be nervous. Let’s keep going, okay? I’ll walk you to your class.”

Thomas nods. “Alright.” He stops for a second before giving Newt a quick kiss.

Newt raises his eyebrows. “I thought you said you were nervous.”

Thomas shrugs. “I still am. Thought I should just go ahead and do it. It helped, actually.”

Newt smirks. “It did? Well, let me keep helping you.” He leans forward and gives Thomas another kiss, slower this time, Thomas melting into his touch, his muscles relaxing. He pulls back.

“That’s better,” Thomas says with a smile.

Newt grins.

“Wait, seriously?!” a voice says to their left.

They both turn to see Minho, his arms outstretched, mouth gaped slightly.

“Oh. Hi, Minho,” Newt greets.

“Didn’t I tell you two to make out? I said it, I know I did.”

“Yeah. You did,” Newt chuckles.

“And now you are! Ha. I knew you two lovebirds had something. That’s awesome.” He claps both of them on the shoulders and leans in, lowering his voice. “Listen. If you guys want some alone time, or whatever, you can come crash at my place. My parents are home, like, less than half the time. And we have _tons_ of empty rooms.”

Thomas’ face flushes red, but he manages to pull it together.

“We’ll consider it,” he nods. “Um, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, man.” He gives them another clap on the shoulders. “Listen, I gotta get going. But remember what I said.”

He starts moving down the hallway, then turns around halfway and points finger guns at them.

“It’s still awesome!” he calls, then turns and sets a light jog down the hallway. Newt turns back to Thomas, laughing quietly.

“See?” he says. “Good reaction. Nothing to be nervous about.”

Thomas nods enthusiastically, breathing out a relieved sigh.

“Yeah. You’re right. Good reaction. This is good. Yeah.”

“Come on. Let’s keep going.”

They keep moving down the hallway, earning some more glances, and a couple stares, as they walk. Newt just keeps smiling, holding Thomas’ hand tightly.

Gally and Frypan walk up to them next, their eyes lighting up when they see them.

“Oh, am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Frypan asks, smirking at Gally.

“I think you are, Fry,” Gally answers with a grin of his own.

“Yup. It’s exactly what you think it is,” Newt answers. “We’re dating! Yeah! Woo!” He pumps one hand in the air with mild sarcasm.

“Since when?” Fry asks.

“Um, about two days ago,” Thomas answers.

“That’s awesome, guys. I thought you two had something,” Gally congratulates.

“Thanks, Gally,” Newt smiles. “Means a lot.”

Gally and Frypan give them quick pats on the back before they head down the hall. The next one to see them is Chuck, who, as usual, is hanging out with some upperclassmen somehow. His eyes light up when he sees them.

“Yeah!” He cheers, breaking out into a grin. Thomas gives him a high five as they pass.

“I’d say it’s going pretty well so far,” Newt comments as they head up some stairs.

“It is. Thank god.”

As soon as they make it to the stop of the stairs, they spot Teresa standing by her locker. Thomas freezes.

Newt looks over at him. His face is laced with fear.

“It’s okay,” Newt assures him. “She’s not gonna hurt you.”

“But she _could_ ,” Thomas argues. “Look at her. She could totally kick my ass.”

“Yeah, mine too. But she won’t. Come on.” Newt starts dragging Thomas by the hand over to her locker, Thomas almost struggling with his footsteps.

Teresa doesn’t notice them at first; she’s looking down at her planner, seemingly oblivious to everything around her.

Newt clears his throat awkwardly. She looks up, her eyes coming into focus when she sees Newt. She smiles at him, then looks over and smiles at Thomas, too.

“Hey, you guys!” she greets, giving a little wave. “How’s it going?” _She doesn’t see that we’re holding hands_ , Newt realizes. Thomas stays silent.

Newt sighs. “Actually, Tommy here had something he wanted to tell you. Right, Tommy?”

Thomas looks over at Newt, terror striking his features. He shakes his head slightly. Newt angles his head towards Teresa, eyebrows raised, as if to say _go on, do it_.

Thomas clear his throat and looks back at Teresa, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. Hi. So, um, I know we’ve had like, a little thing going on for a couple months, like, kissing or whatever, but, uh, I have to tell you…”

As he’s talking, Teresa’s eyes trail down to their interlocked hands, her face lighting up when she finally notices them.

“Wait, shut up,” she interrupts. “I think I know what you’re about to say.”

“Alright,” Thomas responds, cringing slightly as if she was about to hit him.

“Okay. You two are holding hands. That can only mean one thing, right?”

“Um. Yes?” Thomas questions.

“So you’re dating? Is that it?”

Thomas nods, seeming to build a sort of confidence. He looks over at Newt and smiles.

“Yeah. We are,” he confirms.

Teresa’s eyes widen, and her mouth breaks out into a smile. She even does a little jump.

“Oh, thank god! See, I tried to tell you guys back at Minho’s that I thought you two had something going on! I saw this coming. I knew it!”

“But...aren’t you mad?” Thomas asks.

Teresa shrugs nonchalantly. “Eh. It’s whatever. No offense, but I didn’t really see us going anywhere serious. We weren’t actually dating, anyway, and I’ll be leaving for college in the fall. I’m honestly fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to be mad at me and not be my friend again or-”

“Tom. Don’t worry. I’m not mad at you. I kind of saw this coming. I’m just glad you two could finally be together, you know? Be happy.” She gives them both a sincere smile and a quick kiss on the cheek. “Listen, I have to go. But I’ll be seeing you guys around, okay?” She waves goodbye before closing her locker and heading off down the hall.

Thomas lets out a long, deep breath and leans against the wall, his muscles finally relaxing.

“Thank GOD.” he exclaims. “I thought she was gonna punch me. I really thought she was gonna punch me.”

“We both know she would never do that,” Newt defends.

“I don’t think you know her well enough.”

“Whatever. The point is, she didn’t. And no one else has, either.”

Thomas puffs out another nervous breath. “I know.”

“Alright, come on,” Newt starts, pulling Thomas back down the hall. “Your class is right here.”

***

They meet up after almost every period, walking through the halls together, hands interlocked, sometimes giving each other quick kisses. It’s their way of announcing themselves without having to be so direct about it.

Of course, they’ll both update Facebook and everything later. But for now, they just want it to be subtle. To have people notice at their own discretion. They were never people who made flashy entrances, anyway. Okay, Thomas could be a little dramatic sometimes, but that wasn't the point.

They get some more stares and glances from people. Newt knows they’re not the only gay couple in the school, including lesbian couples, so it wasn’t too odd for his fellow students to be seeing. They also lived in a fairly liberal area.

Still, some people give them sideways glances, some having to do a double-take. If anyone had anything negative to say, they kept it to themselves. 

Newt was grateful. He knew Thomas was tense all around from the situation; he didn’t handle rejection from his peers very well, while Newt could usually dust it right off.

It isn’t until Thomas’ friends from track come along that trouble starts.

They’re walking to Thomas’ locker towards the end of the day, back to the area where they saw each other in school for the first time. Just like then, Thomas’ friends from track stand in a circle. Neither of them notice them at first and simply start to walk past them.

Suddenly, one of the boys speaks up.

“Wow, Thomas. I always made jokes about you sucking dick but I didn’t realize you actually did it.”

Thomas stops in his tracks, just a few feet ahead of the group. His jaw locks, and his eyes narrow.

“What did you just say?” Thomas asks, his voice low and almost growling.

“I said, I didn’t know that you _actually_ sucked dick. I didn’t know you were into that shit. That’s gross, man.”

Thomas’ lip twitches slightly, and his lock on Newt’s hand is almost a death grip. Newt sneaks a peak at the group over his shoulder; the one making the comments is one Newt hasn’t seen before. There’s only one other boy laughing; the rest look uncomfortable.

“You wanna say that one more time?” Thomas dares, back still facing the group.

The boy snickers. “What, are you trying to threaten me?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Newt murmurs to Thomas, trying to lead him away from the situation. “It’s not worth it.”

“Yeah, listen to your fag boyfriend,” the boy jokes. “You can’t take me on.”

Thomas whips around, then, and marches straight up to the boy. He bunches his shirt up in his hand and pushes him against the wall, his other arm lined up in the air, ready to strike.

“Don’t you ever fucking call him that again. Are you listening to me?”

The boy just laughs despite his vulnerable and comprising position.

“Call him what?” he pushes. “A fag? That’s what he is.”

Thomas starts winding back his free hand. “Oh, you piece of-”

Newt runs forward, then, pulling Thomas away from the boy before he could hurt him. As much as he wanted to beat the kid to a pulp himself, he knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. Plus, it could get Thomas in trouble.

“Relax, Tommy,” he says, holding Thomas by the arms. “He’s not worth the time.”

“Aww, Tommy?” the boy mocks. “Is that your little nickname? Your little nickname your fag boyfriend gave you?”

Thomas starts struggling against Newt’s arms, desperate to be released.

“You fucking piece of shi-”

Newt starts dragging Thomas down the hall, pulling him into an empty classroom and shutting the door behind them. He could hear the boy’s laughter as they walked, could feel the eyes of everyone staring at them. This was going to be a story.

Thomas whirls around once they’re in the classroom and he’s finally free from Newt’s grip.

“Let me out there!” he yells, pointing to the door. “I’m gonna beat the shit out of that kid. I’m gonna pummel him to the ground, I swear-”

“No, Tommy,” Newt stops, moving so he blocks the door handle. “I can’t let you do that.”

“But why not?” Thomas asks, his voice trembling with anger and desperation. “You heard the way he was talking about you. I’m not gonna let him get away with that.”

“You have to,” Newt answers. “You’ll get in trouble if you hurt him. The year is almost over, there’s no point in getting suspended.”

“But…” Thomas stops, his forehead creased in worry. “I can’t just let people talk about you like that. You don’t deserve that.”

“I know,” Newt says, his voice lowered. “I know I don’t. And neither do you. But you have to understand. There are _always_ gonna be people like him. People who don’t want us together. People who will make gay jokes and call us fags. It’s gonna happen. Even if you like girls, it doesn’t matter. They’ll be there.”

Thomas face falls from anger to pure sadness.

“But that’s not fair to you,” he answers. “You don’t deserve any of that. You are kind, and selfless, and caring, and just...good.” He pulls both of Newt’s hands into his own, taking a step closer. “I just...I love you so much. You know that. You can’t expect me to sit back and let people treat you like shit. I love you too much to do that.”

Newt’s heart simultaneously breaks and grows in his chest. The sadness in Thomas’ voice and face is killing him. To see him this desperate and almost broken physically pains Newt. He didn’t realize what their relationship meant. What the repercussions would be.

But another part of his heart is growing, soaring with the knowledge and affirmation of Thomas’ love for him. The lengths Thomas is willing to go to to protect Newt, even just to defend him from some stupid boy in the hallway. He was dedicated to him, through and through.

Newt wanted to match that. Wanted to meet Thomas’ dedication through to the end. Even though they were just in high school, in some random empty classroom, Newt is thinking about the future. Of being devoted to Thomas, of them protecting and supporting each other, throughout everything coming ahead. Through graduation, college, jobs. Everything. Newt loved Thomas body and soul, as undeniable as the sun loves the moon, and in that random, empty classroom, he knew Thomas felt it, too.

So he pulls Thomas in, doing what always feels natural between them, moving their lips together like they were made to fit seamlessly. Newt grips Thomas’ side and kisses him fervently, trying to tell him through these kisses that _yes, I love you too much, I will always protect you, I will always be by your side, I love you too much, you love me too much, I love you I love you I love you._

***

The rest of the day goes by without any more slurs being yelled at them; the story spreads throughout the school, and they get some more stares, but nothing else happens. Newt isn’t sure whether it’s out of respect, uncertainty, or because they heard the part of the story where Thomas was ready to beat the kid to a pulp.

The other kids in the group go up to Thomas later and apologize, say they were too scared to do anything, didn’t know how to react. Thomas accepts their apology, tells Newt later that he’s grateful he still has friends who support him. Newt’s heart swells when he hears it, relieved that not all of Thomas’ friends are homophobic assholes.

Newt buys the prom tickets, like he promised, using money his mother enthusiastically gave him. Thomas’ eyes light up when he shows them to him, delighted as a little boy being told he’s going to Disneyland.

“This is going to be awesome,” he claims as they walk down the stairs, practically bouncing down them with excitement. “I know you don’t want to go, but trust me, I’ll make it worth it for you.”

“That’s quite the task, Tommy,” Newt teases. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“More than anything. I’m gonna make you love prom. Just you wait.”

“If you say so.”

Newt heads home for the day, Thomas begrudgingly heading off to the rest of his classes. Newt is tempted to stay with Thomas, make sure nothing else happens, but Thomas pushes it off, saying that Newt shouldn’t be at the school any longer than he has to.

“Plus, I need to study for the rest of my APs,” he adds with a knowing smirk. Newt just rolls his eyes and gives Thomas a playful slap on the arm.

That night, as Newt lays in bed, he replays the events of the last day, the last month, the last _year_. It still all seems so crazy to him; just a few days ago, he was avoiding Thomas like the plague, had convinced himself he would never talk to him again, that Thomas could never possibly reciprocate his feelings.

And now, a few days later, he’s texting Thomas goodnight with the little kissing emoji, and it’s all so silly, but it’s all so _real_ , and Newt falls asleep with a smile on his face, and he knows that Thomas will, too.


	28. Interstitial: Dating Your Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little break between coming out to the school and prom. A look at the life of dating your best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Sorry for the lack of updates. I've been at college, and between work and friends, I haven't had much time to sit down and write. The reason I updated so quickly before was because that was all already written. Now I've caught up! Poor planning on my part. But don't worry, I have a light workload this week so hopefully the next chapter should be up soon! I've started writing it, so it shouldn't be long now! Thanks for sticking around!

Their first few weeks as a couple are interesting; they’re still making that transition from best friends to boyfriends, finding the mix in between. It’s a strange combination of “hey, wanna play Call of Duty?” and “hey, wanna make out for a bit?”

It’s a learning experience for them both. But Newt doesn’t mind one bit.

They go on frequent dates; of course, rarely involving money, but they’re dates none-the-less. Newt swears to himself to get a job as soon as possible, or at least when he starts community college.

Most of the dates they go on are silly things; walks through the neighborhood, sneaking into a different theater after finishing one movie, having a backyard play session with Lola.

“You know, this is all because of her,” Thomas comments as he throws a stick. Newt laughs as he watches her run, still amazed by how she’s grown.

“Yeah. Lola started it all.”

Lola runs back, drops the stick at Thomas’ feet.

“Good girl,” Thomas smirks as he rubs her head. Newt has a feeling he means _good girl_ in the same way Newt meant it when he said it that first day they met.

They go through all the routine of being a couple; they even change their relationship status on Facebook, which gets a ton of likes and comments. Newt notices that a few people unfriend him, but he shakes it off. _Not worth my time._

Thomas insists that they take selfies for their profile pictures.

“Come on, Newt, we have to. That’s like, _the_ couple thing to do.”

“Don’t we already have pictures together?” Newt asks. “You take selfies all the time. I swear, you took 50 that day you ditched school.”

Thomas tuts. “That’s not the same. We weren’t dating then.”

Newt sighs. “Alright. If you want.”

Thomas grins. “Great! Okay, come here.”

They take a few, looking more like cheesy yearbook photos than cute, couple selfies.

“Newt, you don’t look happy at all.”

“I _am_ happy.”

“You don’t _look_ happy. Come on, think about how cute I am. That’ll make you smile.”

“Oh, my god.”

“It’ll work!”

“Just take the bloody picture, Tommy.”

“Okay. One, two, and…”

Right before he hits three, he reaches his free hand and tickles Newt’s stomach, causing Newt to squirm and giggle. He snaps the button.

He looks at the picture, showing it to Newt, who is shielding his stomach with his arms.

“See? Much better,” Thomas comments.

It _is_ better; they’re both giggling like crazy, noses scrunched, eyes shining. Newt nods his approval.

“Yeah, s’better. But no more tickling!”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

They get ready for prom and figure out a limo. Newt secretly buys Thomas a corsage, even though he's not sure he's supposed to.

They rent tuxes, Newt sighing when he sees how good Thomas looks in his. His makes him feel like a stick figure.

Thomas seems to disagree, eyeing Newt with approval as he exits the changing room.

“Nice choice,” Thomas smirks on the waiting room bench.

“Oh, please. I look like nothing but bone.” Newt eyes himself in the mirror, biting his lip.

Thomas stands up and walks behind him, wrapping his arms around Newt’s waist.

“Well, then you’re a very sexy skeleton,” Thomas teases, planting a quick kiss on Newt’s cheek. “Now, let’s get out of here. NCIS starts in an hour.”

Thomas also finally takes his other APs, doing much better on those; mainly because Newt forced him to study like an overbearing mother. Now all that’s left are his finals, which are ten times easier.

“I can finally relax,” Thomas sighs as he snuggles into Newt on the couch. Newt just grins into Thomas’ hair, gives him a peck on the head. He knew he worked hard all year; he deserved the rest.

Newt only has two finals to take, and they are barely even hard. Most of his work was just making art, which wasn’t exactly annoying for him. He was having fun drawing, but lately he was painting more, and even doing more ceramics. He had found his passion for art again.

Basically, everything was perfect. All of the waiting and pining and unsaid words and held back kisses, all of that was for this. A year’s worth of practically torture, but it was over now.

He was with Thomas. He was with the boy he was in love with, the boy who loved him back, and he was feeling so much better than this time last year. He had a plan set up. A future.

Everything was perfect.


	29. Prom: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt, Thomas, Gally, Rachel, Minho, and Teresa all head out to prom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY IT HAS TAKEN SO LONG. When I posted my last update I thought I would have a light workweek. Turns out the work got even HARDER to manage. Luckily, I'm on Thanksgiving break right now, so I'm able to post an update for you guys. For the record, the story is NOT over! It might be slow updating from here, and for that I apologize (college life, man) but the story still has a couple of chapters left! Thanks everyone for sticking around and being patient with me!

The night of prom finally arrives. The school has been buzzing for weeks; excited squeals of dresses and hair plans, giggles and applause for every promposal, smirks and whispering for the drama and rumors. It’s practically all Newt hears as he heads down the halls. Finals have been taken and yearbooks signed. After this, the only event left is graduation, which was a few short days after. Everything was coming to an end.

Despite Newt now having a date and a limo, he still isn’t particularly excited to go. Prom was never his idea of a fun night. But he knows Thomas wants to go, and wants to go with _him_ , so he tries to tell himself that it will be fun.

But that’s a little hard to believe.

Currently, he stands in front of his dresser mirror, adjusting his cufflinks passed down to him by his father. His hair is groomed neatly to the side, a stark contrast from the casual, messy style it’s usually in. His suit is neatly pressed, simple and black. The only thing missing is the tie. It’s all startling to Newt; he hasn’t dressed up in a long time.

Right before he fixes his tie, he hears three knocks on the door.

“Come in!” he calls.

His mother comes in through the door, a wrinkling smile appearing on her face when she sees Newt all dolled up.

“Oh, you look so handsome!” she coos, clasping her hands together.

Newt smiles. “Thanks, mum. Is the hair alright? Haven’t groomed it in forever.”

“It’s lovely, dear,” she answers, gently running her hand over the gelled swoop. “Just perfect. You look wonderful.”

Newt grins and looks down, flustered at the compliment.

“Oh, your tie’s undone!” his mom notices. “Here. Let me.” She takes the loose ends of Newt’s bowtie and starts to wrap it, working her fingers around it with care.

“I’m happy that you’re going tonight,” she adds. “I know you didn’t really want to, but this is a special moment. You and Tommy will have a great time.”

“I hope so,” Newt admits nervously. “M’afraid I’ll just be a grumpy gus and ruin the whole night for him.”

“No, you wouldn’t do that,” she denies, tightening the bow tie. “Besides, it’s _your_ prom, not his. Bloody junior still has next year.”

Newt laughs, then turns back to the mirror to examine the tie. It’s perfect.

He’s silent for a moment, checking himself to make sure everything looks right. He gives a little smirk and straightens up, posing.

His mother gives a happy sigh. “It’s so nice to see you smile.”

Newt turns to her. “Oh?”

“Yeah, it is. We both know the last year’s been rough for you. It’s been a tough recovery, love. A tough fight.”

Newt looks down, the familiar feeling of guilt washing over him. He stays silent. She continues.

“But you’re doing so well. Look at you, you’re making art again. You’re enrolled to college. You’ve got a major picked out. You’re with someone wonderful who looks at you like the sun. You’ve got your family right by you. Bloody hell, you’re even going to prom! I never thought I’d see the day.”

Newt looks back up, feeling tears prickling his eyes.

“Neither did I,” he gets out with a chuckle. His mother smiles and starts rubbing his arm.

“The point is, I’m proud of you. And your father is too. You’ve come so far, dear. Don’t forget that.”

Newt pulls her in for a hug, pressing his cheek into her hair. “Thanks, mum. I love you.”

“I love you too, Newty. Now, come on.” She pulls out from the hug. “Let’s go show your father, yeah? He’s gonna love his handsome boy.”

Newt nods, and the two walk down the hallway into the kitchen, where his father stands with his back to them, rummaging through the cabinet.

“Turn around, honey!” his mother calls teasingly. His father turns around, raising his eyebrows when he spots Newt.

“Well, lookie here! You clean up nice, don’t you, Newty?”

Newt chuckles, shrugs his shoulders. “Suppose.”

His father steps closer, pulls him into a tight hug. “Oh, I’m so happy for you. I had such a great time at my prom. I know you and Thomas will have a fun time.”

Newt smiles into his dad’s burly shoulder. “Sure, dad.”

His father pulls away. “Speaking of Thomas, where is the little bugger? Aren’t him and his mum supposed to be here soon? Who, by the way, I’m looking very forward to meeting.”

Newt takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. 6:02.

“He should be here pretty soon. He said around 6:20.”

“Alright,” his mother responded. “now, you have the corsage, right? With the pin so it goes in the buttonhole?”

“Oh, right! It’s in my room.” Newt jets down to his room, pulling out the simple blue corsage from his drawer. Neither of them had any color in their suits, but Thomas always seemed to like blue. Thomas didn’t know that he had gotten it for him, so Newt is looking forward to the reaction.

He brings it back to the kitchen, shows it again to his parents.

“It’s beautiful,” his mother awes. “He’ll love it.”

“Is it a little weird?” Newt asks. “You know. For me to get him a corsage. Since he’s a guy, and all.”

They think for a second before Newt’s father brushes it off with a shake of the head.

“I don’t think so. Honestly, it doesn’t really matter. It’s your time. Your date. No one else should have any concern.”

Newt gives a confident nod. “Right.”

He sits on the living room couch for another fifteen minutes, rubbing Lola’s head as she sits on the floor, as if she knew not to get fur on the suit.

“You’re a smart dog, Lola,” Newt comments, smiling down at her shining, golden face. “You’re a therapy dog _and_ a matchmaker. What can’t you do?”

She gives a tiny bark in response, along with a little wag of the tail. Newt smiles.

He sees a strong highlight pass through the window and hit the walls. A low rumble can be heard outside along their gravel driveway. Newt gets up and looks out the window; it’s Thomas’ mother’s car.

Newt’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help but be nervous; this will the be the first time Newt’s parents meet Thomas’ mom. He’s afraid of what they’ll think, or if they’ll get along. He’s also nervous for the idea of prom itself, but he tells himself to tackle one problem at a time.

“They’re here!” he calls over his shoulder. He backs up so not to be a creeper at the window. His parents head out of the kitchen, excitement evident on their faces.

The doorbell rings; it startles Newt for a second. He expected him to just walk in like usual.

 _Not exactly a usual day,_ he remembers.

Newt steps forward and opens the door; Thomas stands in front of his mother, his black suit fitting him nicely, tie perfectly tied and centered down his white shirt, hands pressed together in front of him, neat and presentable. His hair is mildly groomed; not too gelled, but not crazy like usual. The most obvious difference is that he isn’t wearing his glasses. Again, it startles Newt. He didn’t even know he owned contacts.

Even though it’s odd to see him without glasses, he looks...well, good. Really good. Really, _really_ good. Newt tries not to kiss him right there in front of his mother.

Thomas smiles as soon as he sees Newt, and gives him a once-over.

“What did I tell you?” he says. “The suit looks great.”

“Same to you,” Newt smiles. He turns to Thomas’ mother. “It’s nice to see you again. I’m glad you could come by.” He steps to the side, gesturing out his arms, signaling them to enter.

His mother steps in first, smiling at Newt as she passes.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she answers sincerely.

Thomas enters after her, pausing to give Newt a loving bump with his shoulder. He gives a sideways smirk before passing him into the living room. Newt shuts the door.

Newt’s mother steps forward, offering her hand to Thomas’ mother.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” she says as they shake hands. “Tommy has been coming here for so long, we were wondering when we’d meet the lovely mother who raised him!”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” she answers, smiling broadly. Newt notices that she cleaned up and put on a nice outfit. She seems less tired, too, with a fuller face. “Thomas talks about your Newt all the time.”

Newt and Thomas just smirk at each other, long used to this by now. Newt’s father shakes hands with her as well, and they make idle chatter.

“What’s the theme, again?” Newt asks, turning back to Thomas.

“Hollywood,” Thomas answers. “Which really doesn’t mean anything other than an excuse to put up movie posters. Half the decorating is done right there.”

Newt scoffs. “Figures.”

“We’ll have fun, though,” Thomas insists, slipping his arm around Newt, cupping him at the waist. “I’ll make it fun. I’ll literally force you to have fun.”

“Just don’t expect me to be good at dancing, alright?”

Thomas smirks. “Don’t worry. I’m terrible, too.” He gives him a quick kiss, his eyes shining.

“Alright, boys, time for pictures!” Newt’s mother calls.

“Stay right here,” Newt tells Thomas. Confused, Thomas raises his eyebrows as Newt heads into the kitchen, picking up the corsage.

He brings it into the living room, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I got this for you,” he says sheepishly. He hands the clear box to Thomas, who takes it with a look of surprise. Thomas’ mother covers her mouth with her hand.

“Holy shit,” Thomas whispers, looking it over. “I mean, shoot. Sorry, mom.”

“That’s okay, honey,” she answers.

He opens the box, pulling it out gently.

“D’you like it?” Newt asks nervously. “I know we didn’t have any sort of color scheme, but you always mentioned that you liked blue. And I know you’re not a girl but...it seemed like the right thing to do. For prom, and all. You can put it on your cufflink, too, there’s a pin for that…” Newt stops himself, realizes he’s been rambling.

Thomas smiles, looks back up at Newt with a gleam in his eyes.

“I love it. And you’re right, I do like blue.”

Newt returns the smile, his chest relaxing. “Great. Here, let me put it on.” He takes the corsage back from Thomas and adjusts the pin to the cufflink, snapping it on accordingly. He hears his mother taking pictures in the background, their parents murmuring to each other.

Thomas lifts his wrist up when Newt’s finished, twisting it around to view from all sides.

“Fits like a glove,” he jokes. Newt chuckles.

“Alright, boys, let’s get outside by the garden,” his father says. “We have pictures to take!”

They head outside and take some pictures. It’s a little awkward at first; the “traditional” prom pictures didn’t seem to work for them. Newt thinks it’s because they’re both boys.

So they settle for simpler poses, holding hands and waists. They take a couple of silly ones, too, with sticking-out tongues and strange stances. Weirdly, it starts to get Newt a little excited for Prom. _Maybe it can be fun._

“Alright, I guess I’ll bring them over to Teresa’s house,” Thomas’ mother suggests when they finish taking the pictures. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Lovely meeting you as well, Sarah,” Newt’s dad answers. “You take care, now.”

Newt gives some goodbye hugs to his parents before hopping in the car with Thomas, heading down to Teresa’s house.

“You remember the way, right, mom?” Thomas asks as she pulls out.

“I think so,” she answers. “You two only broke up last summer. I’m not _that_ old.”

Newt laughs at her comment, but there’s an unexpected twinge in his heart, that old nervousness and paranoia about Teresa seeping in again. Sometimes it’s hard for him to believe that all of Thomas’ feelings for Teresa this past school year were fake. That they all went away.

But he shakes it off. No need to work himself up over nothing.

They head down to Teresa’s house. Thomas’ mother meets up with the parents, who conglomerate in a group on the porch. Newt and Thomas step inside.

Inside, they find Teresa, Minho, Gally, Harriet, Sonya, and a girl Newt recently met named Rachel. 

They all turn heads when they walk in, smiles lighting up all of their faces.

“Newt! Tom! You made it!” Teresa calls. She shuffles over to them, giving them both enthusiastic hugs. “You both look great!”

“So do you,” Newt returns the compliment. It’s true; she wears a strapless blue gown, widening around her feet, sparkling under the living room lights.

“Thanks!” she smiles broadly. “I’ll tell my mom you’re here so we can start the pictures.” She heads off out the door and to the porch.

The group heads back outside, taking pictures in a line, waists wrapped around each other. It’s a little weird, and less fun than before, but the parents were really into it, so Newt bared it. They did manage to take a couple of goofy group pictures, so that lightened the mood.

The limo pulls up; it’s sleek and black, reflecting the flash of the cameras vibrantly. Newt whistles when he sees it; he’s never been in a limo before.

“Damn. That’s a sweet ride you hooked up, Minho,” Gally comments.

“I do my best,” Minho smirks. “Alright, everyone, haul in. The night of our lives awaits!”

They shuffle into the limo, Newt amazed by how much space there is. The driver blasts the popular radio station; not anything Newt listens to, but everyone else seems to be enjoying it, so he bobs along. Plus, Thomas is singing along to every song like an idiot, the grin plastered on his face infectious, the purple and blue lights of the limo dancing off of his face and casting a soft glow. It’s hard for Newt to have a bad time while looking at something that beautiful.

They pour some non-alcoholic cider supplied for them in the back and attempt to clink glasses without spilling any.

“Cheers!” they all yell, taking sips through their laughter.

They laugh and joke all the way there, Thomas fitting into the group seamlessly. Even though he was a junior, he had hung out with the group multiple times, and obviously knew Teresa quite well. There was nothing awkward about it.

With positive thoughts in mind of the night to come, Newt smiles and laughs with the crowd as they make their way to the ballroom for prom.

***

Forty minutes later, they make it down to the venue, a nice ballroom seated in a fancy hotel. Gold, glimmering lights signal the entrance, illuminating the dresses of Newt’s classmates as they head through the arching doors.

The group heads out of the limo, Minho and Teresa thanking the limo driver. They all stand at the sidewalk, taking a moment to observe the hotel, craning their necks to view the sheer scale of it.

“Nice choice this year,” Rachel comments. “I heard it was terrible last year.”

“Looks like we dodged a bullet,” Teresa smirks.

“Alright, guys, let’s go!” Minho cheers, rallying up the group.

They head through the doors, handing their tickets and IDs to the bouncer. They all pass their breathalyzer tests (Newt’s a little shocked that Minho didn’t pregame) and head into the ballroom.

Despite the lackluster theme, the room looks beautiful. Shining stars shoot across the ceiling, gold lights dangling down the walls. Almost the entire floor, except for the wooden dance floor, is composed of red carpet. Sure, there are some cheesy, classic movie posters, and a couple of cutout film reels, but for the most part, it looks lovely.

“Wow. That is _not_ what I was expecting,” Newt mentions.

Thomas smiles, slipping his arm once again around Newt’s waist. “See? We’re beating your expectations already. You’re gonna love it.”

“Hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Newt teases.

“Just you wait,” Thomas says, kissing Newt on the cheek. “Come on, let’s go.”

The group heads over to their reserved table, in a spot near a brightly illuminated shooting star light, a little taller than Newt. It casts a warm, yellow glow on the table, bouncing against the red tablecloth chosen to represent, again, a red carpet. Little white folds of paper mark the seats for each person.

They file in accordingly; Newt at the end with Thomas next to him, then Gally and Rachel, and then Teresa with Minho at the other end. They sit in a U-shape, the table lined up against the wall.

Newt looks over Minho’s shoulder at the rest of his classmates filing in. Some of these people he’s known his whole life, since preschool. He’s reminded once again of how all of this will be done soon, how in a few short days, graduation would come. In a few months, community college. Sure, he’ll probably see a good chunk of his graduating class there. But for the most part, this is the last big, fun event they’ll all have together, not counting graduation day. Newt tells himself to enjoy the night, even though he still doesn’t like anything about the night in general.

They make idle chatter for a few minutes before getting their food; Rachel and Teresa discussing their friends’ dresses and hair, Newt and Gally having a heated debate over which _Bioshock_ game is best, and Thomas and Minho talking about track. The group is lively and animated, all clearly excited for a night of fun.

Newt sets his plate down in his spot and slides in, looking down at the array of pasta and salad he’s helped himself to. Thomas watches eagerly.

Newt chuckles. “What? Did you want a bite?”

“No,” Thomas shakes his head. “I wanna see what you think.”

“Of the food?”

“Yeah. Go on, eat.”

“You sound like my grandma,” Newt rolls his eyes, stabbing some noodles with his fork. He takes a bite, mushing around the pasta in his mouth. It’s alright; the sauce is a little watery, and the flavor slightly bad. Nothing too terrible, but definitely a disappointment. Newt guesses all of the budget went into decoration, not catering.

The disappointment must be evident on Newt’s face, because as he chews, Thomas slouches over in sadness.

“Oh, shoot. Not good?”

“No, no,” Newt lies, shaking his head and forcing a smile. “Just a little watery. But it’s good, I swear.”

Thomas forms his lips into a thin line. “I don’t believe you.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “I love it. Look.” He takes another bite, chewing with mock approval. “See? Best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Thomas doesn’t answer for a moment. Newt jumps in before he can press it further.

“What about you? That chicken cutlet looks pretty juicy.”

Thomas cuts off a piece and eats it, chewing thoughtfully.

“I like it,” he says after swallowing. “You can have some, if you’d like.”

“M’fine, really.”

“Well, I don’t want you to starve.”

“I’m not gonna starve!”

“Guys, look!” Teresa interrupts. She points to a spot on the dance floor, Newt and Thomas turning to follow her line of sight. Turns out it was just some kid wearing a purple suit. Still, it distracted them from their food problem, and they finally start to eat.

The whole time they eat, Newt can’t stop noticing Thomas’ face without glasses. It’s such a strange sight for him. Not bad, of course; Thomas is always attractive. But it’s startling, to say the least. He honestly can’t remember Thomas even mentioning that he owned contacts.

 _Has he always had them?_ Newt can’t help but wonder. _Did he get them for tonight?_

After a while, the curiosity takes over.

“Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you always owned contacts?”

Thomas stops, ponders it for a moment. “Maybe? I’ve had them for a while. I almost never wear them, though. It’s too much work.”

“Huh.”

“Why do you ask?”

Newt stops, tries to think of the right way to phrase it.

“I don’t know. I’ve only seen you without glasses once, when you were hungover. It’s a little odd.”

“Odd, like, bad?” Thomas’ face looks slightly hurt.

“Oh, no!” Newt assures, squeezing Thomas’ hand on the table. “No, you look great. I’m just not used to it, is all.”

Thomas gives a small nod, although Newt isn’t sure he believed him. “Right.”

“You know, now that I think of it, I’ve never seen you without glasses, either,” Teresa comments, mouth halfway filled with food.

Thomas raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Teresa swallows and nods. “Yeah. You always had glasses on.”

“I didn’t take them off for dates, or anything?”

Teresa shakes her head, stabs her fork into some food. “Nope.”

“Not even when we went to that fancy Italian restaurant for your birthday? You wore a dress for once, I put on a button down or something. Not even then?”

She shakes her head again. “Not even then.”

“Huh,” Thomas hums.

Newt can’t help but imagine Thomas and Teresa sitting across from each other at a fancy Italian restaurant. Teresa looking lovely, as usual, in some well-fit red dress, hair curled and falling down her shoulders elegantly. Thomas, wearing a button down and cute little tie, hair neatly groomed, glasses in their case at home. Laughing as they eat their food, hands intertwined on the table. No one questioning why they were on a date, why they were holding hands. It’s normal.

Him and Thomas would never have that. That sort of normalcy. There would always be stares.

 _No wonder he’s reflecting,_ Newt thinks. _I’d love to have something like that, too. He did, once._

Newt suddenly hears snapping in front of his face, taking him out of his trance.

“Newt,” Thomas calls. “You okay? You zoned out there for a second.”

Newt shakes his head, gives a light chuckle. “Yeah, sorry. My mind just drifted.”

Thomas nods, then looks off into the distance for a second.

“I’ll be right back,” he says suddenly. He shuffles awkwardly past Newt and makes his way to the other side of the ballroom, disappearing in the crowd. Newt shrugs it off and continues eating, trying to shut off his thoughts for a moment.

“You and him are so cute together,” Rachel comments with a genuine smile.

“Who, me and Tommy?” Newt questions, even though she's looking directly at him.

Rachel nods. “Of course. How long have you guys been dating? A year?”

Newt chuckles. “Actually, it’s been about three weeks.”

Rachel’s eyebrows shoot up. “Only three weeks?”

“Mhm. Though we’ve known each other since October.”

“Wow. It looks like you guys have been dating forever. Why didn’t you start sooner?”

“Well…” Newt’s eyes shoot quickly towards Teresa without meaning to. She’s talking with Minho, luckily, and isn’t paying attention. “Just being shy, I guess.”

Rachel shrugs. “Well, either way, you’re adorable.”

“Who’s adorable?” Minho suddenly asks.

“Newt and Thomas,” Rachel answers.

“Oh, definitely,” Minho says. “I mean, as entertaining as it was to play the guessing game with you too, it’s way cuter now that you’re together.”

Newt chuckles. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You too _are_ really cute,” Teresa chimes in. “Way cuter than me and him ever were. You can tell he really cares about you.”

“How so?” Newt asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“It’s in the little things. Like the way he looks at you, like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. Or when he talks about you when you aren’t around, and his eyes light up and his hands dance around. Oh, and like the gifts he gets you. Like the ice cream sandwiches, and the sketchbook. And yes, he told me about those.”

Newt blushes. “He did?”

“Of course he did.”

Before Newt can ask more questions, Thomas comes back, sliding his way into the seat. He starts eating, remaining silent. Newt looks at him, then notices something different. His glasses are back on.

“Tommy?”

Thomas swallows. “Yeah?”

“Why are your glasses back on?”

“Hmm?” Thomas hums, then snaps to attention. “Oh, right. Well, you said that you weren’t used to me without them. I think that’s code for ‘I like you better with glasses on’, so here.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. You know, I’ve asked you about this before.”

“About what?”

“Whether I should get contacts. Do you remember?”

Newt thinks for a moment. “No, not really.”

“We were sitting on your couch watching _The Amazing Spider-Man 2_. I was looking at when Peter took off his glasses, and I asked you if I should get contacts. You know, to impress the ladies and whatnot.” He says that last part with a smirk.

Newt chuckles. “Okay. And what did I say?”

Thomas’ smirk widens. “You said that girls liked guys with glasses. That they think it’s cute.”

“So?”

“ _Soooo_ , now that I know that you had a crush on me this whole time, you were secretly talking about your own opinion.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” He gives Newt a quick peck on the cheek. “Now, let’s dance. I’ve waited long enough.”


	30. Prom: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Newt's prom night continue with some ups and downs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this took forever i am a piece of garbage

“Alright, alright. Let’s dance, or whatever.”

He stands up, taking Thomas’ hand in his as they shuffle out of the seats.

“Oh, are we dancing now?” Teresa asks joyfully. “Hell yes!” She stands up and practically starts pushing Minho out of the booth. Newt laughs as he looks on, momentarily distracted before Thomas starts dragging him to the dance floor.

The dance floor is crowded with kids, mostly grinding or twerking on each other. A DJ stands on an elevated stage against the wall, with flashing, multicolored lights bouncing around the room and illuminating his stand. Spotlights shine up through the floor, casting an odd glow through the silhouettes of the dancers. Some pop song Newt didn’t know was playing; not the best thing he’d ever heard, but he could admit the beat was catchy.

Thomas finally stops dragging Newt and turns around, hands still linked together.

“Now, I know you’re not the best at this, but you better damn well try.”

“I’ll try my best. But don’t expect anything graceful, alright?”

Thomas laughs. “It’s not supposed to be graceful, it’s supposed to be fun!”

“Yeah!” Teresa yells, suddenly next to Newt. “Just feel the rhythm! Shake that bony white ass!”

She playfully bumps hips with him, surprisingly forceful enough that Newt staggers a bit. She turns back to Minho and starts shaking her hips, losing herself in the song. Newt laughs before looking at Thomas, already getting in the groove.

A slow stream of self-consciousness and anxiety seeps in -- _What if I look like an idiot? I don’t know what I’m doing. I never dance._

Thomas notices that Newt hasn’t started moving yet, just standing there tapping his foot. He sighs, then steps forward, grabbing Newt by the shoulders.

“You need to _move_ ,” he urges, shaking his shoulders lightly. “Don’t worry, no one here is looking at you. Just go for it!”

“But I don’t know how,” Newt says meekly, embarrassed by how young he sounds.

“No one knows how,” Thomas reassures. “Just follow my lead.”

Thomas starts a slight sway back and forth, bobbing his head rhythmically. Newt tries to mimic his movements, shuffling left and right, trying to find the “groove” of the music. He doesn’t feel like he’s doing it right, but Thomas gives him an assuring nod.

“That’s it, you’re getting it!” he yells over the music. He smiles widely, encouraging Newt.

It works. He starts to feel more confident in himself, finding himself actually enjoying the generic pop music he always says he hates. He tries adding a little more swaying action, moving his arms around a bit. Thomas lights up when he sees it, starts doing some silly moves of his own. Newt laughs and copies him.

Rachel dances over and bumps shoulders with Newt, smiling up at him. She starts mimicking their dance moves before turning it into the Robot, adding silly expressions on her face. Newt is laughing so hard, he can barely do the move himself. Eventually, everyone else catches on, and the whole group of friends is doing a really, _really_ bad version of the Robot.

They go through a couple of songs, Newt’s self-consciousness fading completely. He’s just happy to be here with his friends, doing silly dance moves to crappy yet horribly catchy songs. He can’t stop laughing and, other than the times he’s been with Thomas, he can’t remember a time when he’s been this happy.

He looks around at his friends dancing, even glimpses at the twerking silhouettes of his soon-to-be former classmates behind them. Suddenly, everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. He can see all these images fading into a memory right before his eyes.

And that’s okay. It’s inevitable that this will all end; graduation is fast approaching, and then 98% of these people Newt will never see again. Even his friends that he has now will fade a bit when they all move on to their lives after high school.

But these are the memories he wants to look back on.

On his left, Gally and Rachel are doing the Scuba, their cheeks puffed out in enjoyment. It’s the happiest he’s ever seen Gally look.

On his right, Minho is busting out some old-school dance moves, things Newt could never do if he wanted. Teresa claps and encourages him, looking like she’s having the time of her life.

And in front of him stands Thomas, doing what looks like the Sprinkler, but Newt isn’t really sure; he kind of just looks like a flailing mess. But his face is lit up like the star lights all around them, and Newt wonders how he could love one person so much. It’s like every day with him is a surprise.

So he smiles to himself. Because these are his last moments of high school, and even though he never wanted to come, so far it’s everything he wanted it to be.

 

***

 

A few songs later, Newt is exhausted; he didn’t realize how much energy dancing could take.

“I’m gonna go sit down for a bit,” he tells Thomas, straining to speak over the music. Thomas nods, though Newt isn’t sure if he actually understood him or not.

He finds his way over to the table, sitting down and playing with his noodles. He checks his phone quickly, scrolls through some prom photos on Instagram. He looks at all of the classic pictures, with the boy standing behind the girl, hands wrapped around her waist. He remembers how that post looked odd when he and Thomas tried to do it.

He shakes his head and continues scrolling. _No matter. We got good pictures. I have to remember to post those tomorrow._

More of the same. Groups of girls posing with peace signs, groups of guys posing with their arms crossed, pretending to be tough. Newt comes across a pretty selfie of Teresa and smiles. _She always looks so beautiful._

He looks back up at the dance floor to watch Teresa dance. She moves her hips rhythmically to the music, her smile wide and bright. She turns to the side and motions to Thomas, pulling him in by the hands, jokingly twisting them as she moves. Thomas laughs and tries to catch up with her. Newt smiles as he watches his friends dance together, happy that they’re getting along again.

But he also can’t help but notice how cute they look together. To the left of them, Rachel and Gally dance together, looking adorable in their matching outfits. Minho starts dancing with a girl he knows -- ever the playboy. Still, even _they_ look good together. They look normal. Thomas and Teresa look normal, too. Hell, it _is_ normal for them; they’ve already been together. And they look like they should be. They look like _they_ took the traditional photos before they got here. Like Thomas got a corset for Teresa, as tradition, instead of wearing one on his wrist that his boyfriend got him.

Newt can feel his depression seeping in. The thoughts that come with it, and the anxiety, and the self-doubt. He can’t help but feel like he’s holding Thomas back from having a normal life.

Sure, this was a great night for them together, but it could have been even better. Thomas could go out to dinner with her without getting constant stares from people. He could walk down the street holding hands with her without someone calling him a faggot. Thomas didn’t deserve that. And even though he showed concern for Newt when it happened, Newt knew that it hurt him, too, and probably badly. He had just come to terms with his sexuality, and already he was being harassed for it.

Newt tears his eyes away from the group, focuses on his lap. He locks his phone and squeezes his hand against his thigh, anger at himself rushing through him.

_I can’t think about this right now. I need to get out of here, get some fresh air._

He gets up then, moving his way through the bodies and finding the exit, relishing the brush of cold air that hits him when he steps outside. It’s a comfort after being in the humid, compact heat of the ballroom.

He paces for a bit outside of the ballroom, looking up at the night sky, the stars clear and bright tonight. He looks at the sky above, how the pitch blackness stretches above and around. He suddenly feels very, very small. It helps.

He’s considering ditching the prom altogether to go stargazing when he sees Thomas coming out of the front doors. He runs up to Newt, looking slightly worried.

“There you are!” he says. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You vanished on us.”

“Sorry. Needed some fresh air, it’s pretty stuffy in there.”

Thomas pauses, squinting his eyes. “Hey, are you alright? You look like something’s wrong.”

“Me?” Newt questions for no reason. “No, m’fine.”

“No, I don’t think so. And I think I know why.”

A tinge of nervousness sweeps through Newt’s chest, causing his stomach to drop a little.

“You do?”

“Yup. It’s because I’ve made this night all about me, and not about you.”

Newt is both relieved and confused by Thomas’ response. “What are you talking about?”

Thomas sighs. “This whole night. I’ve barely thought about what you _actuall_ y wanted to do. Hell, you didn’t even want to come in the first place and I dragged your ass here! I was kind of a jerk about the food, then I dragged you to the dance floor and made you dance when you were clearly uncomfortable, and I even claimed that you were trying to tell me I should put my glasses back on when you never even said that. Basically, I’ve been a dick. And I should have asked what you wanted to do. This is your prom, not mine. I’ll get one next year. Which you will be at, by the way, that’s not an option. But for this one, it should have been. And I’m sorry.”

Newt blinks for a moment, processing everything Thomas just said. He’s touched, but also slightly amused.

“Tommy, you didn’t drag me anywhere. _I_ asked _you_ to prom, remember? Not the other way around.”

“I know that,” Thomas answers, “but I basically told you to.”

“Yeah, but I could have not done it. I did it because I wanted to make you happy.”

“That’s the problem! You did it to make me happy, not you. I want you to be happy tonight.”

“Tommy, I’m happy just being with you.”

A pause. “I know. But you know what I mean. You might have had fun dancing and all that, but I don’t think you’re really happy here. That’s why you’re out here for air, isn’t it?”

Newt sighs. “Well, that’s one of the reasons.”

“What’s the other one?”

Newt stays silent for a moment, contemplating what to tell him.

“Just what you said, I guess.”

Thomas purses his lips and thinks for a moment. Suddenly, his eyebrows shoot up.

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

Newt blinks. “What?”

“I said, do you want to go somewhere?”

“...what do you mean, Tommy?”

“Look. We’re not exactly in the middle of nowhere right now. We don’t have to stay here. You’ve already danced and eaten food with your friends. You’ve taken the pictures, you’ve ridden in the limo. You’ve gotten the prom experience, if that’s what you wanted. Now we can do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, Newt, anything!” Thomas spreads his arms out and chuckles. “You said you were happy just being with me. Well, here I am. And we can go anywhere you want. You choose. This is your night. Let’s spend it how you want to. Live while we’re young, you know, all that good shit.”

Newt pauses for a moment, thinks it over. “Anywhere?”

“Yes. Well, preferably within close range so our friends don’t think we’re dead, but yes, anywhere. I’ll follow you anywhere.”


	31. Prom: Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Newt separate from the ballroom to have their own little prom.

Newt grabs on to Thomas’ hand, gives a reassuring squeeze.

“Alright. Let’s live while we’re young.”

He starts pulling Thomas along, starting a light jog. He’s not too confident in where he’s going, but he figures that’s part of the thrill. He uses the glow of the streetlamps and storefront signs to guide his way, ignoring everyone he passes. The only person that matters is the one whose hand he’s holding.

“It’s funny,” Newt adds as he continues his pace, “I feel like I’m the one always following you around.”

“Well, then I say it’s time we change that,” Thomas says from behind him. Newt can hear the smile in his voice.

Finally, Newt sees his destination up ahead, and slows his light jog to a walk, Thomas meeting him at his side. The sidewalks are less crowded, now, and the quiet, misty air under the blue streetlights make Newt feel serene, as if he and Thomas were the only people in the world.

“We almost there?” Thomas asks, swinging their arms lightly and playfully.

Newt nods. “It’s right up ahead.”

Thomas squints, struggling to see through the slightly foggy air. “What is that? A beach?”

“It is, yeah. Not the prettiest of beaches, and it’s pretty small, but it’s a nice place to be. Especially on a night like this.”

“Well, if this is where you want to be, I’m with you.”

They walk to the beach in silence, a peaceful calm settling in the air. The stranded, dimly-lit beach is a much needed contrast from the hectic, crowded ballroom noise. Thomas starts climbing on groups of rocks, holding his arms out to the side for balance. Newt smiles to himself before joining him, trying his hardest not to fall off.

“Must feel pretty weird, huh?” Thomas asks as he skips between a gap.

“What must feel weird?”

“You know. How everything is ending soon. I mean, come the fall, you’re whole life is going to change.”

Newt gives a soft laugh. “It’s not that extreme. I’m only going to community college. I’ll see a lot of people from high school there.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s still a change. New classes, new people, new environment. A lot of your old friends will be on opposite sides of the country. Isn’t it weird?”

Newt thinks for a moment. “Yeah, it’s pretty weird. But it’s a good thing, too. I need some change in my life. I’d hate my life if I was stuck at high school forever.”

“I feel that,” Thomas nods. “It’s weird thinking I only have a year left. And most of my friends won’t even be here with me.”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure that’s not true.”

Thomas plops off the rocks, starts moving towards a small dock. He motions for Newt to follow, which he does.

“It is true,” Thomas debates. “Let’s go over my friends. You, Minho, Teresa, Gally, Frypan, Harriet, Sonya, and new friend Rachel. All seniors.”

“Well, you’ve got to have more than those.”

“Oh, of course. I’ve got Chuck. The freshman.”

“Remind me how and why you’re friends with him again?”

Thomas laughs to himself, kicks a stray rock. “I don’t even know. He’s really not that bad, once you get used to him. He’s a nice kid.”

“But he’s a freshman.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m an only child. He’s like the little brother I never had.”

“I’m an only child, too. You don’t see me talkin’ up freshman.”

“Point taken.”

“Alright, so we’ve got seniors and a freshman. There’s gotta be others.”

“Well, I used to have the track team, but then they turned out to be bigoted assholes.”

Newt sighs, remembering the moment that happened three weeks ago. The school was buzzing about it for a little while. They received a lot of support from their friends, which helped a lot. Still, it brought back the feelings of guilt from earlier tonight. Newt tries swallowing them.

“Didn’t some of them apologize?” he asks, trying to find the silver lining.

“Yeah, some of them. But they still didn’t do anything. Bunch of cowards.”

“Hey, not everyone is the ‘I’m literally ready to fight someone at any given moment’ kind of person that you are.”

“That’s not true!” Thomas exclaims. “I’m just very passionate.”

“And angry.”

“Only when provoked. Well, I’ve got one friend, I guess. Aris is actually my age. One whole friend my age. Wow, I’m killing it.” 

Newt just smiles at the ground, continues walking.

They reach the end of the dock and sit, their feet dangling over the edge, a light breeze tickling their ankles and ruffling their hair. Thomas laces Newt’s hand with his, starts playing with his fingers.

“I can’t believe I’ll be going to college soon,” Thomas mutters. “And you’ll be going off, too.”

“I know. I’m not going far, though.”

“Thank god. I don’t think I’m ready to let go of you just yet.” He gives Newt’s hand a squeeze.

“Don’t worry. I’m a stick in the old hometown mud.”

Thomas laughs. “Hey, have you figured out where you’re going after community college? If you’re still looking at Art Therapy, and everything.”

“I think I’m sticking with it,” Newt answers. “It’s a lot of work, but I think it’s the right path for me.”

“I’m glad you found your calling,” Thomas smiles genuinely. Newt returns it.

“Now, as for colleges...I found a couple of options for starter schools, but there’s one that’s really sticking out to me.”

“Which one?”

“Paige State University. It’s not that far from here, only about an hour and a half. It’s got a really nice Art Therapy program, and it’s one of the best state schools out there. I heard the food’s not bad, either. And they’ll even let me bring Lola and put her in a single with me, and…” Newt trails off, noticing the strange look of awe on Thomas’ face. “What’s the matter?”

“Dude. That’s my first choice.”

Newt blinks. “What?”

“Paige State University. That’s the school I’ve been looking at. I’m torn between Criminal Justice or maybe Computer Science, and they have both there. Plus, it’s not far, and they have a really cool track team. It’s seriously my number one choice right now.”

“You’re shitting me.”

Thomas chuckles. “No, I’m not! Swear on my grave, that has been my first choice for at least six months. I really think it’s the place for me.”

Newt gives a breath of disbelief. “No way, Tommy. That’s insane. How could we both have been looking at the same school without knowing?”

Thomas shakes his head. “I have no idea. But isn’t this great? We only have to have one year where we’re not there at the same time! Then we’ll be at the same school together, and we can study together, and play with Lola in the quad, and get drunk at parties together and make out on the couch! Dude, it’s gonna be amazing! We’ll be like one of those super couples everyone is jealous of.”

Newt laughs at Thomas’ excitement. “Yeah, it does sound pretty amazing. Almost unbelievable.”

“I know! And if you get that single with Lola, I could practically stay at your dorm every night! We’d basically dorm together, and then I can bug you all the time! Dude, we could play Smash at 4 AM. No parents would stop us!”

“Our neighbors might.”

“Oh, screw them. You can just distract them with Lola. They’ll forget why they were even mad.”

“Fair point.”

Thomas sighs again, leaning back as he stares out into the dark water ahead of them.

“Man. That is crazy. We’re gonna be a super couple, I’m telling you right now.”

Newt smiles, watching Thomas’ bewildered face as he looks out onto the landscape. He can’t help but feel bad for not telling Thomas what he was feeling before. He figures actually talking about his feelings should be something he does now, instead of bottling them up for 8 months before avoiding his problems and then exploding.

“Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah, Newt?”

“I, uh...I wasn’t entirely honest with ya back there. Outside of the ballroom.”

Thomas turns to Newt, his eyebrows furrowing. “You weren’t?”

“Nope,” Newt shakes his head. “I was thinking uh...about...that asshole that called me a faggot a couple weeks back. Your former friend.”

Thomas scoffs. “Don’t waste your time thinking about that guy. He’s not worth it.”

“No, I know. It wasn’t just that. It was...well, I couldn’t help but think about how that’s gonna happen all the time. And how we’ll never really have a normal relationship, where we never have to live in fear while walking down the sidewalk holding hands. And I felt like I was holding you back from having a normal, healthy relationship. And I know that’s probably my depression talking, and it’s all really stupid, but I just think you deserve to have something normal. Something that will make you happy, where no one is gonna harass you.”

“Newt, I swear to god I’m gonna kill you.”

A pause. “Excuse me?”

“I’m gonna kill you. Every day, you have a new opinion on our relationship. One day you’re convinced that I’m happy being with you, and that I really want this. Other days, I see you look at Teresa with almost a side-eye, even if you don’t mean to. I know your depression kicks in sometimes, but you have to believe me when I say I want to be with you.”

“I know, I know you want to be with me,” Newt says, turning so he’s facing Thomas, voice softening. “I just think you deserve something normal. Something safe.”

“Something normal and safe? Do you really think that’s what I want?”

“Maybe it’s not what you’re looking for, but you could still be happy.”

“No, Newt, I couldn’t be happy. Because if I was dating someone that wasn’t you while you still existed in this universe, then I would be really freaking sad.”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure there’s someone out there lovelier than me.”

Thomas sighs. “Alright. That’s it.”

He stands up and cups his hands around his mouth, turning around so he faces the town.

“I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE. I LOVE NEWT EDISON. THIS BOY RIGHT HERE. NEWT EDISON. I LOVE HIM AND NO ONE ELSE AND I DON’T CARE IF PEOPLE ARE GONNA CALL ME A FAGGOT, I’M GONNA KISS THE HELL OUT OF HIM ANYWAY. AND I’LL DANCE WITH HIM AT PROM AND I’LL TAKE HIM OUT TO DINNER AND I’LL HOLD HIS HAND WHEN WE WALK DOWN THE STREET. BECAUSE I LOVE HIM AND I DON’T GIVE A SHIT WHAT THAT MEANS TO THE REST OF YOU.”

Newt stares up at Thomas from the ground, dumbstruck. Thomas looks down at Newt and huffs out an exhausted breath.

“There. Now do you believe me?”

Newt doesn’t answer, too exasperated to think of anything to say.

“I can yell it in the streets if that will help,” Thomas offers. Newt snaps back to reality, starts shaking his head.

“No, no, that’s fine.”

“I mean, really, it’s no trouble. I might do it whether you want me to or not.”

“Tommy, you really don’t need to-”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Wait!” Newt jumps up and grabs Thomas by the arm before he could run off. He turns him around gently and gives a bemused smile. “Tommy, it’s fine. I get it. I’d rather it just be us right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Newt, of course I don’t mind. I literally just yelled about how much I love you and want to spend time with you. I’ll take alone time any day.”

Newt sighs. “Okay.”

“Now, can you please put all of those shitty thoughts in the garbage? Because I can’t play ping-pong with our relationship, or I might go crazy.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’d be more hurt if I wasn’t with you,” Thomas answers, holding onto Newt’s hands. “Now, there’s one more thing you’ve forgotten to do.”

“What’s that?”

“You forgot your slow dance.”

Newt curses under his breath. “Oh, shit! Sorry, Tommy. We can run back, if you want.”

“No, no, I don’t want to,” Thomas assures. “Well, it doesn’t actually matter what I want. It’s what you want. Do you want to go back?”

Newt thinks for a moment. He looks past Thomas, blurring him, and focuses on the sidewalk in the distance. From here, he can see the road leading down to the ballroom. The florescent lights dance through the fog, creating a strange, colorful sky. He can feel the water in the air around him, almost floating, and he suddenly feels relaxed.

He focuses back on Thomas, all of his features slowly coming back into focus. He looks at Newt expectantly and patiently, his eyebrows slightly arched in question, his beautiful brown eyes darkened like stone in the night light, and a small smile sitting on his lips, as if he already knows the answer. Newt tries to focus back on the scenery around them, but can’t. All of the colors in the night sky couldn’t compare to him.

“No,” Newt finally answers, not surprised by the new softness of his voice. “I don’t.”

Thomas’ smile finally escapes, sweet and soft and understanding. “Okay. Then we’ll have to just dance here.”

He suddenly lets go of Newt’s hands and takes his phone out of his pocket, the unnatural blue glow of the phone casting contours on his face. His eyes flicker across the screen, the reflection dancing in his almost-black iris.

“What are you doing?” Newt asks through a light chuckle.

“Well, luckily, I came prepared,” Thomas answers, setting his phone on the fisherman’s box near them. _Here, There, and Everywhere_ by the Beatles starts playing through the speaker. It someone perfectly captures the mood, the setting, the scenery, everything.

Thomas holds out his hand, offering it to Newt. “Would you like to dance?”

Newt smiles down at the ground before taking his hand, thanking the stars, the sky, the streetlights, the fog, his dog, his friends, his school, his drawings. Anything that led to him, to this moment, to him, to him, to him.

They start dancing to the soft melodies of Paul’s singing. They sway, their feet slightly bouncing on the wood, and turn. Newt watches the view change from the teal, foggy water to the bright sidewalk, and back again. He knows one usually puts their head on the other’s chest, but that doesn’t feel right. So instead, he lets his head lightly fall forward until their foreheads touch, closing his eyes and just trying to make this moment last. For once, he doesn’t want to feel it fading into a memory before his eyes. He just wants to feel it, now, and be in the moment with Thomas, as present as he could ever be.

And so they sway, and they dance, and even after Paul has long stopped singing and only the muffled sounds of the ballroom echo in the distance, they still dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotta upload fast before i go back to college and die


	32. Be Seeing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graduation and a time jump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter.  
> Thanks for sticking around.  
> Now there IS a sequel! Of ficlets!!!!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/13563657/chapters/31126452

Newt tightens the red cap against his head, pushing his messy blonde bangs underneath, feeling it mat to his forehead. He tightens his tie slightly before closing his robe, the vibrant red a stark contrast from his usually gray wardrobe.

He takes a moment to look at the ensemble, the ensemble that he spent four years grumbling and suffering his way through school to get. He thinks about where it started, those four years ago. His depression was there, but it wasn’t too terrible; it was manageable, treatable. Almost forgettable. He dove head-first into his first-level art classes, feeling proud when he saw he was ahead of his classmates in skill. He stuck to his side of the school, the freshman side, and never gave anyone a second glance. He started to feel a future forming.

Then sophomore year came along. Newt found himself seeing more upperclassmen, partly because Alby took kindly to him. He saw them planning out their futures, choosing colleges, going off to careers in biochemistry or law, things that would pay. He saw people taking advanced classes, something he had never even considered. Worst, he started noticing the upperclassmen’s art. And boy, was it fantastic. Every day, he felt less proud than he used to be, less motivated, less happy. Luckily, Alby kept him afloat. Reassured him that he was a great artist, that the seniors felt the same way he did at his age, that he would have it all figured out soon enough.

Then, junior year. Alby left for college, and suddenly Newt was left in the dust, scrambling to choose colleges, choose a job, choose a _future_. He turned to his friends, like Minho and Teresa, for advice, but they didn’t seem to have any way to help him. Either they weren’t prepared, or they were taking a completely different path. Newt felt hopeless. So hopeless, in fact, that he eventually started to feel either completely numb or in constant pain. When he couldn’t take the two extremes anymore, he decided to do something about it.

Then he woke up in a hospital bed with his mother crying next to him, and resolved from that moment on to get better.

So he spends some weeks in recovery before coming back to school. He focused on just getting through the year, just getting his work done so he could graduate. He would figure out the rest from there. College could wait.

Then senior year. Then senior year, and a park, and a dog, and a boy. And suddenly, everything was in color. Newt’s hands couldn’t stop creating. His mouth couldn’t stop laughing, or smiling. His heart couldn’t stop fluttering, his lungs couldn’t stop rattling, his legs couldn’t help but feel weak. Suddenly, everything Alby used to tell him suddenly became true. He had a plan. He had some sort of future, however uncertain it may be. And for once, he had it all figured out.

Of course, Thomas wasn’t purely responsible for all of that. And there were still dark days. But Newt would be a liar if he said Thomas wasn’t the ship that kept him afloat.

One day, when Newt was helping Thomas study for a test, Thomas gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him that he kept him together.

“Like glue,” he smiled, looking at Newt with eyes he didn’t think he deserved to see.

Newt smiles, now, because it almost seems like the other way around.

His mother starts yelling from the kitchen for him to hurry up. “You didn’t work those four years for nothing!”

Newt laughs. _She’s right. Time to leave that shithole behind._

 

 

 

The amount of letters that come before E pale in comparison to all of that letters that come after E.

Newt Edison learns that very quickly while he sits in the auditorium for what feels like about 5 years of his precious, young life. He manages to sneak his phone out from under his robe to text Thomas, who keeps either typing “PROUD OF U” or “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU I CANT SEE YOU FROM BACK HERE”. Either way, it makes Newt smile.

He doesn’t remember much about walking across the stage; his main focus is on not falling, and remembering to shake everyone’s hand. He does remember, however, a very loud cheer from three different voices somewhere in the auditorium, and the sound of his name, and something like “THAT’S MY SON!!!!!” and also “THAT’S MY BOYFRIEND!!!”. Again, he tries not to trip.

It takes eons for him to finally shuffle his way out of the auditorium past the mob of people. He takes selfies with Teresa and Gally while waiting for everyone to come out. He sees Minho leading a group cheer on top of his car in the distance.

Finally, he feels a massive boulder hit him from behind. A boulder with arms that wraps them around his waist.

“You did it! You graduated! And you didn’t trip!”

“That was really all I was focused on,” Newt smiles, turning to around to face Thomas. He gives him a quick kiss. “Thank you for the shout out, by the way.”

Thomas’ eyebrows shoot up. “You could hear that?!”

Newt chuckles. “Yeah. You can be pretty loud, you know.” Thomas just smiles back at him.

Eventually his parents manage to find him through the chaos. They congratulate him, his mother slightly teary-eyed, and walk with him as he makes the rounds before leaving. They head off and go to the Comic Strip Diner; a place of Newt’s suggestion.

“They have great milkshakes,” he said, smirking over at Thomas.

Newt can’t remember a day that was this perfect. He’s finally leaving his school behind him, and moving forward. Plus, he still has a year with Thomas before he heads off to college.

Later, he shoots Alby a quick text.

N: You were right.

 

***

 

The warm August sun shines off of Lola’s fur as she runs around the dog park.

Newt watches as she plays with a cute little Corgi, it’s small legs struggling to keep up with Lola’s fairly large build. To his left sits Thomas, one hand holding his, the other sipping on a caramel iced coffee, watching Lola with a smile. He leaves for Paige University tomorrow morning. Newt has a shift at the comic store he works at, so he can’t come. So they decided to spend their last day together doing what brought them together in the first place.

Thinking about that day, Newt decides to ask one of the many questions that have been stirring inside him since they started dating.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah, Newt?”

“Do you remember when we first started hanging out here? How you just ended up finding me over here, and we kept coming back every week?”

Thomas nods. “Of course. Why?”

“Well...did you actually get lost? I mean, did you really end up in the dog park by accident?”

A slow smile forms on Thomas’ face, and he looks down at his coffee. “Nope. I knew exactly where I was going.”

“...to me, you mean?” Thomas laughs.

“Of course.”

“But why?” Newt presses.

Thomas shrugs. “We talked and I thought you were cute. Plus, Lola seemed to like me a lot. Figured there was no shame in seeing if you would come by again.”

Newt can’t help but chuckle. “I’m a little confused. Weren’t you unsure about everything? You know, about liking boys and all that?”

Thomas nods. “Yeah, I was. I mean, like I’ve said, I always knew that I found certain boys cute, or hot, or whatever. But it usually wasn’t anything past that, so I always kind of pushed it aside. But something about you...you were different. At the time, I don’t think any of it was conscious, but I knew that there was something special about you. That I wanted to see you again.”

Newt grins and gives Thomas a kiss on the cheek. “Well, I’m certainly glad you came back.”

Lola comes running back to them, her tail wagging a mile a minute. Thomas lets go of Newt’s hand to ruffle her head. She enthusiastically tries to lick his hand, which makes him laugh.

“You ever think she knew?” Thomas suddenly asks.

“Knew what?”

“That we liked each other,” Thomas answers. “I swear, some days it seemed like she was a little matchmaker.”

Newt chuckles. “Yeah, actually, I do. She is a therapy dog, after all. They’re very smart.”

“And perceptive.”

“M-hm.” Thomas suddenly starts fanning himself, almost over exaggerating the motion.

“Woo, it is boiling out here,” he exclaims.

“It is summertime, Tommy. Tends to get warm.”

“I know. How can you stand it?”

Newt shrugs. “I just like the outdoors. I’ve always liked the sun, plants, and whatnot. I’m just an outdoors-y person.”

“I’m not,” Thomas complains. “I am an indoors, air conditioner, video games all day person. And I am dying.”

“You wanna head back to my place?”

Thomas sighs in relief. “Yes, please! Besides, we only have so much time to make out before I leave tomorrow.” He stands up, holding out his hand. “Chop, chop, Newty.”

“Only if you never call me that again,” Newt demands, remaining seated.

Thomas rolls his eyes. “Okay, Newt. I swear, one day I’ll come up with a good nickname for your already weird as hell name.”

Newt laughs as they walk back home, Lola trotting next to them.

“Some day, Tommy. But not today.”

 

***

 

They stand outside the front porch, the first signs of sunset settling on the sky, an array of pinks, purples, and blues. There’s a slight chill in the air, a calming, summer night’s breeze.

“Alright, I guess it’s time,” Newt comments, hoping to prologne the inevitable.

“I guess so,” Thomas adds, rocking on his heels.

“Well, you know I’m gonna come visit you, yeah? You’re not too far off, so expect me to be there frequently.”

“I’d be mad if you weren’t. And I’ll make sure to prepare a proper tour of the campus.”

“Tommy, I’ve already taken a tour. It’s still my preferred school, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was their ‘official’ tour. I need to give you the Thomas Isaacs tour.”

“I’m sure that will be filled with many irrelevant facts that I’ll never need to know.”

“Only with that attitude,” Thomas chuckles. Suddenly, his face sombers. He steps up and takes Newt’s hands with his, rubbing his thumb along. “I’m really gonna miss you.”

Newt gives a small sigh, his heart lurching at the sadness in Thomas’ face. “I know. I’ll miss you too. This small town seems smaller without you, you know?”

Thomas smiles. “Just remember that I’m not too far away. And obviously we can FaceTime, or whatever. Oh, and remember to take your pills on time!”

“That’s what Lola’s for,” Newt laughs.

“Well, just in case she slacks one day. Who knows, maybe she’ll start getting lazy.”

“She’s a therapy dog. They don’t get lazy.”

Thomas sighs. “Still.” There’s a small pause, Thomas moving his hands to Newt’s hips. “And remember that I love you. Although I tell you often enough that I doubt you’ll forget any time soon.”

“That’s alright. You can tell me as many times as you want.”

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Thomas smiles sincerely before leaning in for one more kiss; somehow the sweetest, yet saddest, one they’ve had yet. Newt tries to memorize it, just in case he manages to forget how Thomas’ lips feel.

“Okay. I should go now, or I never will.”

“Good plan,” Newt smirks.

Thomas starts heading down the stairs, moving down the driveway to the familiar path home. Halfway down the path, he turns around.

“Hey, Newt.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be seeing you, yeah?”

Newt smiles. “Yeah. Be seeing you.”


End file.
